


Of Leaf and Shield

by RunePhoenix6769



Category: RWBY, bumbleby
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Comedy, Dungeons & Dragons References, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, Romance, Slow Romance, Tea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2020-10-27 01:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20751857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunePhoenix6769/pseuds/RunePhoenix6769
Summary: In the town of Dame's Point Landing, the saying goesA kindness can go unrewarded yet a slight comes back twofold.and Blake Belladonna is no stranger to being on the wrong side of the motto.So it is no surprise when she comes face to face with an unmovable object.Quite literally.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FuckingBEES](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuckingBEES/gifts).

> A commission for FuckingBEES.
> 
> _ A dine and dash scenario after which Yang offers Blake a chance to get back on her feet. Romance ensues. Set it how you like. _
> 
> Set in a fantasy world of my own creation, with sprinkles of DnD for flavour.
> 
> If you are interested in a my work, drop me a holler here or over on tumblr @
> 
> runephoenix6769
> 
> I AM UPDATING THIS STORY BUT FOR SOME REASON IT IS NOT CHANGING THE DATE UPLOAD AT THE TOP OF THE PAGE. TRYING TO FIGURE IT OUT.

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The coastal town of Dame's Point Landing was gripped in an uncharacteristic bout of dank weather. Grey skies no longer full of the calling of gulls much preferring to roost in the masts of the ships that bobbed up and down in the dark waters of the wharf, their sails wrapped up and rigging empty.

A fine drizzle coated everything in a slick sheen. It was the kind that seeped into the very lining of one's clothing soaking you to the very bone. The usually bustling fishmarket was empty save for a few hardy souls intent on eeking any coin they could, their shouts of encouragement to try their wares muffled by the heavy blanket of mist. 

From within the depths of the shadows of an alcove, Blake watched with keen, golden eyes the comings and goings as one ship was struggling to bring in its daily catch, the fishermen labouring to row the tiny skiff towards the stone steps that led up from the tempestuous waters to the docks. She shivered causing the earring in her feline ear to tinkle as she attempted to draw her damp cloak further around her. Her mouth watered at the sight of the red scaled fish in the wooden wicker baskets on the dockside and her stomach gave a gurgle in reply.

Pickings had been slim of late as whispers of fouls deeds on the plains of Boras had begun to filter into the low lying areas, even the brightly coloured barges bringing goods from the mountainous regions in the West had begun to been seen less and less coming down the rivers, their trade being plied elsewhere.

As with anything when the Nobles began to bicker amongst themselves it was the poor who suffered first.

War was in the air, as well as the smell of sea salt and the smell of fresh fish that at this point was becoming nigh impossible to ignore for the starving, young Cerebani woman.

Pulling up the hood of her cloak to hide her feline ears and curling her midnight black coloured tail, she continued to observe, as the sailors tried to haggling with a dock merchant, their fingers and hands gesturing in sign of the international language of Merchants everywhere.

By the looks of things the dock overseer was refusing the high cost of the fish, questioning the validity of its freshness and origins, whilst the captain made assurances that they had trawled the once bountiful shoals of Boras at great peril.

Blake flexed the pads of her feet, causing her toes and retractable claws to curl round the edge of her open toed boots as she watched the group of sailors surround the dock mechant, hands and fingers flying in quick succession in the throes of a heated argument. They had made the mistake of turning their backs on the laden wicker baskets. 

Eyes darting to and fro, her ears flickering under the soft hood, she soundlessly moved off, slinking in the shadows afforded by the precariously leaning wattle and dorb buildings and large fisher trawling crates, boarded up stalls and over hanging awnings from the buildings above.

She crept ever closer. 

_If she was careful, she could have the fish in her hands and disappear before anyone was the wiser._

A horse and cart began to lumber down the wide road, driver head hunkered down between hunched shoulders, barely able to peek from under his hat as he muttered away to himself. She slid out, moving with graceful ease that was a trait of her people, alongside the cart. The sumptuous fish glistened in her keen eyesight and she was just about to make her move, splitting off from the safety of the cart's cover, when there came the rhythmic ringing of iron on stone, the telltale jingle of light armour and slapping of sandals.

The fur on her tail stood on end and she swiftly retreated back into the shadows as Dame's Point Landing's finest rounded the corner, the captain of the guard atop his chestnut horse closely followed by foot soldiers. 

It would not pay to stick around. 

Hurriedly, she made a mark with the claw of her forefinger on the wooden slat at the back of the stall, alongside others, that to the untrained would look like nothing in particular before ducking down an alley and scaling the wall onto the rooftop with ease. Once on top of the roof, she crept towards the lip of the building, watching how the City Watch began to commandeer the fisherman's wares. 

The boat captain's first mate went to protest only to receive the butt of a spear in the gut for his troubles and a scant amount of coin dropped into the boat captain's hand. It looked to Blake like barely a fraction of what the haul was worth.

The rest of the sailors looked as if they were about to make a stand, only for the boat captain to stave them as the Watchmen lowered their spears and primed crossbows, aggressively pointing them in the crew's direction. Instead, he spat at the feet of the Dock merchant and Watchmen, signing an insult before encouraging his men to leave, their angry protests and threats in their own language distorted by the fog.

It was for the best, as Blake had first hand knowledge of what happened to those who had been deemed breaking the law. Slavery was said to be illegal in Dame's Point Landing but her kind knew that the slavers offered good coin to those members of the guard who were more than willing to take it and weaker men to look the other way. Slinking back into the shadows of the crooked chimney stacks she cupped her hands around her mouth, letting out a quick succession of high pitched whistles and calls, a warning to those who had an ear to decipher them. 

Today, the docks were off limits, better for her kind to try their sleight of hand elsewhere.

With acrobatic grace and agility, she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, passing aviaries and empty washing lines. Nimbly sliding down slanted slick tiles on her thighs at high speed, her clawed fingers reaching out to clasp overspilling gutters at the last second to swing her on the necessary trajectory needed to make the lower buildings rather than tumbling to the sodden streets below.

Nobody knew the eaves of the port town quite like her, not even her peers of street urchins and thieves. Well, maybe the assassins did, but Blake made a point of not meeting them, preferring like anyone with an ounce of survival instinct to stay well off their radar.

On a clear day, one could see the roads that snaked out of the town and over the flats that to the farthest reaches of the region. On market day they would be backed up with carts and chattel. She had often heard stories, in drabs and snippets, of the grand cities of Silverward and Sleetspire, the lush valleys of Dewfell and terrifying forests of Thornshade.

She oft thought of joining one of the many caravans that would leave the large town to find fortune and adventure but she always balked at the last minute. 

Pressing on, she navigated her way to the centre of the town passing by the narrows of Falseham, where if you weren't careful the residents would take the very eye out of your head.

The pads of her fingers trailed on wood and brick work, feeling out nodges and marks, eyes seeking out what looked like haphazard mounds of pebbles, twigs or strips of coloured cloth that fluttered. It was a language of its own that changed constantly. Each mark, pebble or miniscule twig letting others know if a hot meal was forthcoming, if a particular trader had been hit hard recently or procured paid protection.

To ignore the thieves speak and urchin runes was absolute folly. There was no one else looking out for them, other than each other.

She was about to move on towards the trade quarters where she would find the butchers and bakeries of the town when she spied a green bottle wedged into a crack, three corks tied with thread instead of two. Quickly, she examined the scratches there and gave it an experimental sniff, reeling from the signature stench of one of her acquaintances. 

So it would seem the area had already been tapped out and the vendors were being hyper vigilant.

Carefully, she recorked the bottle, a signal that she had received the message, before setting off to an area of the city she had not frequented in a while.

It was as the weather took a turn for the worse, the heavens overhead opening, that Blake dropped silently into a narrow back street of the Shroudgulf area of the town. Here there were taverns a plenty, chimneys billowing smoke into the sky signifying that the kitchens were in full swing. Even in the heavy air, the Cerebani girl could pick out the smell of meats on the spits mingled in with the smell of warm hearth smoke. Diligently, she checked each doorpost or wall for the telltale signs, making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone who passed by. She read the literal writing on the wall. The Kings Head had cudgel protection, Honey Spurs had mage incantations. 

The slight dykes down the side of the cobbled stoned streets were filled to a raging torrent spilling over and the gutters overhead gurgled and she was splashed by the carts that trundled on the thoroughfare. Blake pressed further off the beaten track, passing by a tavern with no sign but a heavy black door marred with deep marks that signified the City Watch drank there.

Hurriedly, she made sure to put a good distance between herself and that place, taking twisting streets, until she was in a place she wasn't wholly familiar with. Further up the street, on the corner of a tiny intersection, she spied a sign that read The Bear and Sickle. She didn't recall it being there the last time she was in this area but it had been such a long time, preferring to stay away from the areas frequented by heavier patrols or City Watch on their down time. 

Cautiously, she approached, neatly crossing over the thoroughfare in between the traffic of carts and carriages that were beginning to pick up in the mid morning and nonchalantly leaning back against the wall. She scanned the area looking for any indication that the establishment was known to the urchins. Finding none, she moved on to the side of the tavern, once again seeking out the runespeaks or semaphore. 

It would seem that the tavern had yet to be scoped out

Ambling along the narrow side street she looked like any other citizen, but she was carefully casing her surroundings. 

Where others would see shop fronts, she saw a potential trap, where others would see what looked like sheer walls, she saw a potential escape route. Following the winding street round the side of the tavern and what looked like a clothes swap shop, she found what she was looking for, a narrowish back street that ended in a brick high wall with a few wooden produce boxes at its base, something she could use as a springboard to scale the barrier with ease when the need arose.

_Now good reader, it needs to be said that Blake Belladonna wasn't a bad person, in fact if you managed to catch any of the grimy street urchins you would find that she was rather kind, more often than not sharing what little she had with those who were less fortunate. _

_She only ever stole from those who could afford it and the thing she was about to do was something she hardly ever partook in unless there was dire need, and if you had caught the glint of saliva at the corners of her lips as it watered or how her tummy gurgled from not having eaten in a number of days, you would realise that today there was a dire need. And maybe it was the hunger that over rode her usually cautious nature, or muddled the street smarts she was renowned for, that our trusty protagonist did not spare the thought as to why this place in particular didn't have any runes or markings to speak of._

Slipping through the door, the Cerebani woman stepped into the tavern to be met with a bank of warm toasty heat from a wide open fire at the far end. Near the entrance door, she took a small table with its tiny stools and settled back to scan the room as she unclipped her sodden cloak.

The inside looked rather bigger than she had expected and it looked like it was doing a brisk trade despite the foul weather.

At the left hand side a long solid wooden serving bar, behind which she spied barrels of ale and glass bottles winking in the fire light. A tanned, bright blonde haired man stood behind it, serving mugs of ale to beefy punters with thick arms who he regaled with stories, causing them to let out booming laughs.

There were booths cast in shadow and the main floor was taken up with long tables and benches full of hungry customers of all races tucking into plates of meat and bread rolls. An assortment of weapons winked and twinkled in the candle light. 

_ Good to know there was a lack of a weapons policy. Meaning they trusted their customers._

A small fresh faced girl with red and black hair whizzed about, talking animatedly as she dropped off pewter mugs bubbling with ale, and a top heavy yet muscular blonde girl alternated between serving plates laden with food and filling up mugs for the other servers to take.

Spying a free hook near a warm brazier that was giving off a dry heat, Blake shook out her cloak, causing miniscule droplets to fly off in a light spray before hanging it up and returning a little ways away to her seat, inching it back a little further into the shadows, making sure her back was protected but still see a clear path to the exit.

She might as well take advantage of what was on offer as she had no idea when next she would be able to glean some warmth. Her cloak was treated to repel most foul weather but had become oversaturated and heavy in the downpour. 

Fumbling with a swath of material tucked underneath her shirt, she pulled it up over her ears in a makeshift hood, her eyes darting to the pile of coin winking on the table between two dwarves, an greenish grey half orc and a human, staring intently at cards in their hands. Studying them intensely, she picked up on how the orc shifted her left foot, raising the heel ever so slightly just before she won the hand. One dwarf took to stroking their beard, and the human was too cautious, bidding in small increments.

So engrossed, she almost didn't notice the buxom blonde serving woman until she was nearly casting a shadow on the table. 

Tearing her gaze from the game of cards, Blake was wholly unprepared for the mass of unruly golden curls framing a face that looked like it should be carved into the prow of the finests of ships. Speechless, the Cerebani woman's gaze travelled down, over bronzed skin, smooth rippling biceps and a stomach that suggested that this barmaid took care of herself, down past a short light leather skirt made up of separate strips that made a noise as they slapped together, down lean yet muscular thighs and ended in well made leather boots with a fur lining. 

The barmaid gave an easy smile that caused Blake's tail to curl up at the end and sway ever so slightly. Keen lilac eyes flickered towards the slight movement in the gloom and Blake cursed inwardly, as she instinctively coiled it round her leg under the table, out of sight.

"What can I get you?... We've got Groutling on the spit, if you want somethin to warm you up, or the usual fare of bread and cheeses?"

Under the makeshift hood, Blake's ears twitched at the warm voice that didn't carry the usual Dame's Point Landing twang. Again, lilac eyes flickered up to the top of the Cerebani girl's head, then just as quickly back to her face. Blake felt the end of her tail swish against her calf through the material of her pants. 

The barmaid continued, 

"Is nasty outside."

Gathering herself, Blake replied, 

"Bad weather makes for good business."

The easy grin widened, 

"That is true."

From the far side of the tavern, there came a little shout over the din, 

"Yang, a little help!"

Both women looked in the direction of the call to see the red and black haired serving girl looking a little frazzled, as she attempted to weave amongst the crowd, a laden tray held aloft. Returning her gaze to Blake, the blonde gave her a questioning look. Feeling time was pressing, the brunette, took a small breath as a pause, 

"hhm.... Groutling and an ale."

"Good choice," Yang removed a pewter mug from the tray she was holding one handed, "- Here, take this one. We'll get to you as soon as we can. I apologise beforehand for the wait, but as you can..."

Nodding in thanks, Blake's fingers curled around the handle of the offered mug, rushing to reassure her, 

"No, no... You're busy... I understand... I'm not too keen on getting back out there anyways."

Eyes lingered a beat, a long drawn out pause, broken by a cheer from a nearby table. 

"Get to you as soon as we can."

Blake was almost certain she caught the blonde wink before she turned, weaving her way through the throng of people, disappearing out of sight. Sedately, the Cerebani woman sipped on the ale and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. It was full and bodied with a hint of something sweet, honey if her nose was to be trusted, and not as watery as the ale to which she was accustomed. Relaxing back, she returned to watching the card game and it would seem that the pile of coin in the centre had grown somewhat, this time including what looked to be a dagger.

Casting her eyes around the interior, she took in the decor. Mounted over the hearth a large double sided axe, highly polished took pride of place, under which a willowy female elf and a hulking, grizzled warrior who looked to be in his 50's were deep in conversation. In the far corner a troll whose fingers moved rapidly in sign whilst a rather scraggly looking dwarf leaned forward listening intently. 

Hung on the wall was a round board, covered in concentric circles that got smaller and smaller as they made the middle, a monk and a purple tiefling throwing daggers at it's centre in a game of sorts and finally her gaze rested on a wooden board with markings. Curiosity getting the better of her, she got up. Nobody seemed to be taking any heed as she approached. 

On side, a crude painting of a paw, under which was numerous lines crossed through at 5. Another line was a crude sickle, under which considerably less, and the column on the far right under a red X there was only one marking. 

Looking about, nobody nearby seemed to offer up what the strange board could mean. Instead, Blake retraced her steps, kicking a pile of straw over the pool of water that had gathered under her dripping cloak. Giving it an experimental feel she was pleased to find that the hood and the shoulders seemed to be drying out as steam curled up in wisps.

A winking light on the card table caught her attention, and it would seem not only hers as heads turned in it's direction. One of the dwarves laying down a gemstone with great reverence, even the other gamblers shifted in their seats. 

"Double or nothing?"

The human gave a toss of his head, placing his cards on the table, 

"Too rich for my blood."

However the female half orc leaned forward on her elbows, the heel of her left foot bobbing up and down in contemplation. A deep scowl on the second dwarf's face told Blake all she needed to know. Silence seemed to ripple out from the card table to the rest of the tavern, small murmurings of conversation at it's edges.  
.  
Suddenly her view was blocked by a serving girl dressed in pastel colours, her voice high pitched, 

"You order Groutling and an ale?"

A little disappointed that it wasn't the blonde barmaid from earlier, Blake nodded, adding, 

"I already have my ale."

Slipping the wooden plate onto the table and the mug, the pastel waitress waved it off, 

"Yang said the first one was on the house," She removed something from her apron, "- Don't even think about stealing the fork, I know exactly how many we have and who has them."

Holding up her hand in a stay of execution, Blake babbled, 

"No, no... I don't need one... I have my own!"

_The last thing she needed was watchful eyes upon her when she needed to put her plan into action. She almost felt a twinge of guilt at the kindness of Yang's free offer. _

Tipping her head in acceptance, the ginger waitress pulled a face, returning whatever it was back into the depths of her apron, 

"Alright then... enjoy." 

She moved off to another table, collecting mugs and smiling at other customers as if she hadn't just threatened the person before.

Removing a small dagger with a blackened blade, one she used for purse cutting, from one of her many deep pockets she tried to ignore how her stomach growled at the aroma of the cooked meat. It looked like a hefty slab going so far as to hang over the edges of the plate. Checking to see if anyone was looking she nimbly secreted the two tiny, soft bread rolls into the depths of her pockets and set to cutting the slab of meat in half. 

It was soft, splitting either side of the blade like velvet. Satisfied, she lovingly wrapped the half portion in cloth, slipping it into a pouch at her hip, keeping her face neutral so as not to alert anyone.

_A little something to share and a little to savour for later._

Once her task was done, she set to cutting up the Groutling into bite sized chunks, skewering them with the tip of the blade, where she could nibble them. The meat was juicy and succulent, admittedly some of the best groutling she had ever tasted, unlike the sinewy fare she was used to that came from places that didn't bear thinking about. 

Giving up all pretense at propriety, she wolfed down the meat, wiping at the juices that threatened to dribble down her chin and licking at her fingers, washing down each bite with a swig of sweet tasting ale. Halfway through, she began to slow down, taking time to chew and enjoy the slap up meal. Over at the card table, the game intensified, and other punters forgetting their own conversations began to take notice.

A slight sheen of sweat glistened on the first dwarf's brow and it's companion's scowl deepened. Under the table, the half orc's heel stopped in mid air. Even the pastel waitress had stopped by on her journey, and out of the periphery Blake could see the brawny barman begin to slowly take weirdly shaped glass bottles off the shelves, secreting them under the bar. 

Casually, the Cerebani woman licked her lips as she popped the last piece of meat in her mouth. 

It was regrettable that she wouldn't be visiting this establishment anytime soon as the food was topnotch and the service was easy on the eye. For a brief second she contemplated leaving some coin, but these days it was increasingly difficult to comeby. Instead, she kept a close eye on the card came, smoothly slipping from her seat and very carefully reaching for her cloak.

Triumphantly, the dwarf laid down their cards with a smug grin, using their hands on the table to rise out of the seat to collect their winnings, when under the table the half orc's foot began to vibrate. One huge hand reached out, to stop the dwarf, before she carefully laid down her cards. 

There was an absence of sound that gave way to a collective gasp, as the nearby punters witnessed the winning hand. 

Bushy eyebrows wiggled in disbelief, darting from the their own cards to the orcs, beside them, their companion swelled.

An anticipatory moment, before the second dwarf screamed in garbled consonants, cold cocking the loser in the jaw and holy hell broke loose.

Seizing the moment, Blake whipped her cloak over her shoulders, smartly sidling towards the door as dwarf upon dwarf rolled on the ground and the half orc's hearty laugh intermingled with cheers. Making it into the foyer of sorts, she pulled up the hood of the cloak to obscure her face just as a man blocked the door. 

Looking up, she froze, her stomach dropping like a stone at the sight of the tell tale cloak and emblem of a member of the City Watch. 

_Oh shit!_

He cast a cursory glance in her direction, she picked out blood shot, tired eyes, messy black hair, unkempt stubble and the telltale whiff of stale alcohol. Politely, he stepped to one side allowing her to pass just as the sound behind her began to change. 

It was far too jovial, 

"We've got a RUNNNNNNERRRR!"

Hoots, hollers and the sound of tankards banging off tables erupted all at once as she attempted to squeeze past and bloodshot red eyes darted in her direction. 

A millisecond of acknowledgement between the Thief and Guardsman. 

A bunching of muscles. A feint to the right then to the left, back to the right again.

Fooled by her feinting, the Guardsman ducked to the right in a bid to stop her, leaving the left side open. 

Blake bolted.

At high speed, she careened to the left hell bent on taking the already ordained path as something behind her skittered over the cobblestones, a miniscule current of wind on her tail she leapt up into the air as a wooden produce crate exploded exactly where her feet had once been. 

Landing, her left foot went from underneath her as the sole of her boot connected with something slimy that shifted underfoot tipping her forward onto her hands whilst her other foot scrabbled to find purchase, long claws scraping over stone and cruelly twisting on the unrelenting surface.

_It hurt like hell, but it would have to wait till later_. She agilely ducked past a cart and continued at high speed down the lane way and past the shops. Three women with baskets full of wares blocked her way and the Guardsman behind her seemed to be gaining ground, if his shouting and hollering was anything to go by.

Ears flat against her skull and tail puffed out, she bounded in one fluid movement, mounting the wall and pushing herself off with one foot passing the three shocked women at shoulder height before neatly landing in a roll and through a pile of fresh horse shit. Scrambling to her feet, she pressed on past the swap shop, eyes finally landing on the entrance to the narrow alleyway and her escape route. 

Banking a hard left round the corner, so fast she nearly over shot it, she hazarded a glance back to see the Guardsman trying the navigate the three woman. 

_Amateur!_ she grinned. Body still carried by forward momentum, her ears swiveling for a nano second, face turning to follow them.

_THWACK!_

Three things happened in quick succession. 

First, her nose exploded in excruciating white heat. Second, she was arching backwards through the air and, third, she heard a loud, triumphant, 

"Booooo Yaaaa!"

Then she collided with the ground, stone and dirt cleaving skin off her hands and she was pretty sure her buttocks. 

All she could think about was the pain blossoming through the front of her cranium and the feeling of hot, wet and sticky blood streaming down her face.

Looming over her was the blonde barmaid, whose eyes were no longer lilac but red and glowing, wielding something wooden in her hands. Eyebrows knit in confusion and Blake had two thoughts before a heavy brown boot blocked out all the light colliding with the thief's head with a crunch.

_ Where did you come out of?_

and,

_ Is that a fucking tea tray?_


	2. Chapter 2

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_Dear reader, I don't know whether you have had the unfortunate experience of running full force into a tea tray, and for those who have, you have my sympathies, however, there are a number of things that can occur._

_One, it is an excruciating pain that cannot be ignored._

_Two, good luck smelling anything for a while._

_Three, you now have two black eyes._

_Four, the outfit you were wearing is now irrevocably ruined. _

_And last but not least, pray to the gods it is a clean break and someone is kind enough to set it immediately lest you are left with something that once resembled a nose but is now in fact a snout adding nothing to your looks but a grim reminder to look where you are going!_

_All of the above was currently attempting to make itself known to our trusty protagonist just as she beginning to come back to consciousness._  
.  
.  
.  
_SPLOOSH!_

Hit full force with freezing cold water, Blake startled awake at the sudden onslaught. Having an intense dislike of water in general, she attempted to retreat, pushing back with her legs, and was dismayed to find that for the second time in 24 hours she was once again getting a worms eye view of the world as the chair she was tied to tipped over.

Unable to smell and eyes almost swollen shut, her ears flickered towards the sound of heavy footfalls and a laboured grunt as the chair was hefted into the upright position, the momentum causing Blake's head to loll forward and letting out an agonised moan when the front of her face bloomed with concentrated intense white heat adding to her already throbbing headache.

Somebody removed the hood of her cloak before retreating to a small distance.

"You caught her, then?"

"Of course I did!...Works every time."

The first voice was gruff and male and the second, female with a decided lack of the usual Dame's Point Landing twang but laced with smugness. 

_Pleased with yourself?_ Blake thought darkly.

"Looks like you're losing your touch, old man!"

"Watch it, firecracker. This old man still has a good few miles left in him yet. You got lucky!"

A bark of laughter that was warm and melodious, causing her tail to curl at the end and give a lil swish up under the cover of her cloak.

_Traitor!_ Blake scolded, inwardly.

Looking up, the Cerebani woman, squinted in the bright mid afternoon light coming through a window set up high on the right. Barely able to see as it was, it was blinding sending up flashes of purple until she was able to adjust.

It would seem she was in an outhouse of sorts.

To her left, baby groutlings let out tiny excited squeals as they clamberd to suckle from a monstrously large sow led on her side making happy grunts. On a makeshift counter, to the right, in and amongst wooden buckets and pots, Blake spied her possessions. Adding insult to injury, they had been meticulously laid out in neat rows on the offending tea tray, and the Cerebani woman fancied she could she the imprint of her face in the slightly bevelled wood. 

In front of her, the blond barmaid, Yang, sat astride a chair, strong forearms resting on the back support, watching her warily. The way her legs were spread afforded Blake a wink of material . As if noticing her gaze, Yang gave a small cough, delfty moving the flaps of leather that made up the skirt, obscuring the view.

Over to the side, the brunette spied the unkempt City Watchman, with his arms crossed over his chest and resting the sole of his boot against the wall as he casually leaned there.

Ever so slightly she shifted, gently testing the strength of the knots of the rope that was tied round her wrists, chafing against the skin. Looped under, over and around a spindle in the back of the chair, she was dismayed to find that they were indeed expertly tied with no give whatsoever. Long fingers searching down along the spindle, she gave it an experimental wiggle, hiding the spark of hope as round wood moved a fraction where it connected at the base with the seat.

Ears twitched under the secondary makeshift hood, sensitive hearing picking up hushed voices from somewhere outside. 

"Have they started yet?"

"Nope"

"Think they're gonna break her legs?"

An exasperated sigh, 

"Nora!"

"What? It's just a suggestion... Can't do a runner if you've got broken legs.. Is logical, is all I'm saying."

Blake's ears instinctively flattened against her head, the movement drawing the gaze of the barmaid. There came a rap at the door and it opened a sliver. Timidly, the red and black haired serving girl, poked her head in, 

"Yang, I brought what you asked for."

Getting up off the chair, the blond took something from the girl's outstretched hand, murmuring in what she thought was a whisper, but pointless in the company of the Cerebani woman, 

"Nora, there will be no breaking of legs!" There came a moan of disappointment. Yang added, "-But maybe a finger or two."

She firmly closed the door, sliding home the bolt, and Blake flinched at the high pitched scraping sound.

Making her approach, Yang unscrewed the top off the small jar in her hands, tossing the lid on the nearby counter where it rattled on the surface. Rubbing her middle finger in the jar, she stepped closer with a swagger, as Blake watched her warily,

"Here, lets be having a look at you." Her hand went to reach for the makeshift scarf. Blake's top lip curled back, baring her teeth hissing and spitting, straining at her restraints causing the chair to rock from side to side. Yang's hand hovered, and the brunette registered the tell tale sound of a blade being swiftly removed from its sheath, as the blond yelled, "-Hey! Hey! Hey! .... Cut it out!" -She stated matter a factly,"- You're in no position to be hissing at folk!"

Tail swishing angrily underneath the cloak, her hisses gave way to a deep chesty growl. Yang continued, holding out the jar for the brunette to see, 

"Look, see. Just something to patch you up with..... Or I can leave you with a busted face and good luck finding anyone who will set it."

Blake snarled, 

"I wouldn't need it if you hadn't hit me with tea tray!"

"And I wouldn't have needed to if you hadn't _stolen_ from us!"

She ignored it, 

"Who in their right mind goes around hitting people with a fucking tea tray?"

"I think you're missing the point here. You. Stole. From _Us!_"

"There should be a law against it!"

"There _is!_"

"I meant the tea tray!"

Yang let out an exasperated sigh, 

"Look, are you gonna let me fix your face or not?"

"What are you? Good Watchman to his arsehole?"

The Watchman, gave a one shouldered shrug, flipping the dagger in his hand. Crouching down, Yang once again reached, out, hands hovered as she added, 

"You gonna bite me?"

Even though it hurt, Blake managed an insulted scowl, 

"I'm not _feral!_"

Yang, quirked her eyebrow at the low rumble still emanating from the thief's chest.

_Point taken._

Reluctantly, Blake ducked her head down. The barmaid gave a sickle of a smirk, 

"There, was that so hard?"

Her whole lofty, yet teasing and smug demeanour was confusing and Blake harboured dark thoughts of wiping that smug grin off her albeit pretty face. Hands resumed on their intention of administering aid, pulling two pieces of blood sodden cloth out of Blake's nostrils. 

"Owww!"

Immediately, she could feel hot liquid dribbling down her top lip. Yang worked swiftly, gentle fingers feeling along the bridge of Blake's nose. She felt bone grating against each other, the sensation causing her stomach to lurch. She recoiled from the touch. 

Calloused fingertips at her chin held her steady. 

"Hold still!"

This close, the brunette could make out a smattering of freckles on the apples of cheeks and thick dark lashes surrounded lilac eyes. Hating how the tip of her tail curled in response, Blake peevishly, spat

"I would if you weren't mauling me like a bugbear!" 

Yang glared at her, roughly turning her chin this way and that so she could make a better examination in the light. 

"You know, for someone whose in a whole lotta trouble, you've got one hell of an attitude!"

A feather light dabbing of something on her nose and under her eyes. Every touch, though careful stung like hell and the vapours made her eyes water. A warm tingle spread out all over her face alleviating the pain somewhat. 

"There," Yang announced, "-All done. It should take down the swelling and your nose should heal straight enough, if you don't go messing with it or do anything else that's stupid."

Lacing her voice heavily with sarcasm, Blake replied, 

"I'll be sure to be eternally grateful."

In a bout of frustration, Yang got to her feet, tossing the jar on the counter. 

"You know what? I don't have to do this! I'd be well within my rights to hand you over to the City Watch and let them deal with you!".

Petulantly, Blake countered, 

"Is that not what you're gonna do," She tossed her head in the Guardsman's direction, "-hand me over to him so he can _sell_ me?" Leveling her gaze at him, she continued, "- That's what your lot do, _right?_ Little bit of coin in your pockets, be damned the consequences!"

For a brief moment, Blake thought she saw hurt before it was replaced with a dark scowl, the Watchman, pushing himself off the wall, his gravelly voice, 

"I've had enough of this."

He tore back the bolt, leaving the outhouse, slamming the door behind him so hard, it banged off door jam swinging on its hinges which squeaked. Yang rounded on her, yelling,

"You're such a brat!"

Blake allowed herself a small nugget of satisfaction at the reaction she had elicited, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, when Yang's fingers began to trail over her belongings, hovering over the cutpurse's blackened blade..

Instead, the blonde picked up the small black leather pouch, giving it a shake. Coins tinkled off each other. Undoing the leather string, she tipped the contents out onto the tray and the Cerebani woman's shoulders sagged as an index finger moved the currency. Remaining focused on the coin, Yang said, 

"What I don't understand, is why you ran? You have plenty enough here to cover the meal?"

The thief licked her lip and tried not to cringe at the metallic taste, 

"I'm keeping it for a rainy day!"

She suddenly became the focus of glowing red eyes, and for a brief second the ends of her golden hair looked as if it was a flame,

"A rainy day!"

"Yeah.... It's not that easy to come by."

"Then get A. JOB!"

"Don't know if you've noticed, but there's not a lot of jobs going around... What, with there being a war on and all. People have shut up shop to get out of the way."

"Don't tell me about the _fucking_ war!"

Blake recoiled from the shout that filled the small ramshackle building, causing the Groutling and her brood to squeal at being awoken from their slumber. She was pretty certain that the flames that licked at the edges of golden tresses was _not_ a trick of the light and she began to think that maybe she was a little out of her depth and having no wish to make her situation any worse, she tried, 

"Look, I'm not the only one that's suffering, the price of food has...."

"So you thought you could steal it from _us!_" Yang unwrapped the piece of meat, leaving it beside the two small rolls, with an accusatory tone, "- You didn't even eat it all!"

Blake tried to sniff and instantly regretted it at the dull throb that followed. Weighing up her options, she took a stab in the dark. With a heavy sigh, she uttered, 

"It's not for me."

"What did you say?"

A little louder, as if she was spelling it out for a cretin, 

"I. Said. It's not for me!"

"What do you mean it's not _you?_"

"There's Alulk, he's an old Gnoll whose teeth have gone rotten in his head. Softened bread in milk is about all he can eat these days. ....." Blake scanned the barmaid's face, whose features didn't move. "-And a slab of meat that size will feed a family of Gnomes for a week. I was going to give to Enizu, being his wife is about to pop and he can't get out of the house on account of getting run over by a flock of wild sheep last market day."

Yang's eye twitched for a second before she broke out into a hearty belly laugh.

Blake continued, indignantly, 

"What's so funny? ..... Sheep are fucking dangerous!"  
.  
She continued to laugh, Blake's ears swiveling towards the sound. Yang's eyes became pinpoints, 

"What _is_ going on under there?"

She darted over in one fluid movement, Blake's protests falling on deaf ears, twisting her head this way and that,

"Geroff me! Don't you dare!" Her voice rose an octave, "-Don't you, fucking dare!"

Yang, paused for a second, throwing her a smug grin, and pulled down the makeshift hood.

Feeling air on her ears, they flickered from side to side, earrings tinkling off each other. A look of awe on her face, the blonde pulled back as she breathed, 

"You're a Cerebani???"

"So.. What of it?"

"_I knew it!_... Wasn't sure if I was right, being your kind are meant to be rare.... especially this far south."

"Thanks for the reminder!" Soft, gentle fingers rubbed against her ears, Blake tried to pull back, her left ear quivering at the touch and her traitorous tail swished. Struggling to hide how nice the sensation felt, she ducked her head, "-You know, it's rude to touch people's ears without permission."

"So is stealing from people!" A nail scratched at the base, "They're so warm and fuzzy."

Swallowing a rumble that threatened to erupt from her chest, she hid it in a growl,

"I hate you!"

"Guess the cats out of the bag," A gentle caress, "-So to speak."

Blake rolled her eyes at the awful pun,

"Now I _really_ hate you!"

She told herself she didn't hate the loss of soft fingers, or the cocksure reply of, 

"I don't think you do!" Yang returned to sit astride the other chair, and the pair regarded each other. The mischievous grin that was beginning to spread across the blonde's face set Blake on edge, "- Now, what do you believe to be a fair recompense for doing a runner?"

Blake shrugged, leaning back and stretching out her legs in front of her, flexing the retractable claws that poked out of open toed boots in a bid to feign comfort, making her voice hopeful,

"Oh, I dunno...... You let me go and I promise to never darken your doorway ever again?"

Letting out a chuckle that the Cerebani woman found infuriating, Yang countered, 

"Nice try but no Sarkenleaf!"

Ears drooped with disappointment, 

"Well, it was worth a shot."

A look of bemusement remained on Yang's face as she leaned forward to rest her chin on her hands on top of the chair back followed by long silence that fizzled and popped, her eyes never leaving Blake, who was certain she could see the water wheels turning over in the barmaid's head. Unable to take the tension, the brunette swallowed, glancing to the side before looking back and finding she was still the subject of intense scrutiny. 

On the edge of hearing, the sound of armour clanking and footfalls approaching that made Blake's fur stand on end and her top lip to curl back in a snarl. 

_Maybe this woman did intend to hand her over to the City Watch and the stockades?_

It was only at a loud authoritative knock on the door that Yang broke off the staring contest, sitting up straight and shouting over her shoulder, 

"Yeah?"

In an accent that was all at once rich and alluring yet ruined by the haughty tone and wholly unfamiliar to the Dame's Point Landing citizen, a female voice enquired, 

"Is this where you are keeping the thief?"

Yang threw Blake a quizzical look, who raised her eyebrows and shrugged in reply. Moving quietly of the chair, the barmaid reached into a dark corner, retrieving a nasty looking cudgel, before creeping towards the door. Blake had to admire how she cleverly placed a firm foot just behind it, angling her body whereby she could use her weight if needed to. Holding the cudgel out of sight, the blonde shouted back through the door, 

"Who is it?"

"Someone who is willing to pay coin for information."

Clink, clink of armour as if a body was shifting, a gravelly male voice, that Blake recognised from the dark skinned men on the docks said to hail from the far off country of Yeshijan and far more polite,

"We are patrons of your fine establishment, I am Kasaf and my companion is Lorelai..." A whispered scolding, before the man continued, "-If you recall we have taken lodgings here. We mean no harm, merely information on a companion we seek, who may be known to the person in your custody."

With a firm grip on the cudgel, Yang opened the door a crack, letting in a sliver of a shaft of bright light. There was a long moment and Blake leaned over to the side to see if she could catch a glimpse, long fingers behind her began to work with haste at the base of the spindle, the angle making it nigh impossible for her claws to whittle away at the soft timber.

Coming to a desicion, the blonde said, 

"One moment." She closed the door. Masking her intent, Blake shifted back to sit ramrod straight, trying to look as innocent as possible as Yang turned around. The blonde crossed the space and very gently pulled the hood of Blake's cloak over her ears so as not to catch on them, "- Don't want anyone getting any ideas, eh?"

Gratefully, the Cerebani woman murmured, 

"Thankyou."

Retreating to the side, Yang rested her ass on the counter, blocking the view of the smattering of possessions on the tray and the cudgel still in her right hand, 

"Come in."

First entered a willowy female elf Blake recognised from fire place in the tavern and then suddenly all light was blocked by a hulking mass of muscle.

The elf's nose wrinkled in disgust , no doubt at the smell of the Groutling and her brood as she stepped further into the ramshackle building. She took to looking around her, trying to be careful of the placement of her highly polished and expensive looking boots. Her almost pristine clothes looked to be of the finest quality, the only indication that she was a traveller was the ends of the lustrous cloak, that seemed to take on the hue of the surroundings, had a fine coating of dust. Long ears poked out either side of dark copper hair, save for one strand that winked white. At her hip a rapier that looked oddly dull in comparison to her coffered appearance.

She looked reluctant to move any further into the Groutling sty but had scant little choice as her companion attempted to squeeze into the increasingly cramped space, needing to turn sideways and duck his head in order to fit through the narrow entrance.

If the elf was neat then her grizzled companion was practically filthy by comparison. His boots were marred by a coating of hard travel and his cloak was frayed at the edges, held at the shoulder by a pauldron that had seen better days. He unfolded as far as he could, still needing to stoop so as not to hit his head on the various implements hanging off the low bevelled eave. His black skin was marred by a nasty looking puckered white scar on his right cheek that continued down to his jawline, leaving a barren patch. Through his beard that was greying in places he offered an affable grin, 

"Sorry to have disturbed you."

One monstrously large bear like hand reached up to stop a harness chain from swinging and hitting him in the face. 

Using the noise, Blake's claws worked double time at the spindle. Through his legs, she could see a patch of daylight seeping through from the still open door. None of them looked like they were built for speed or agility in close quarters and if she was smart about it she might be able to make a break for it, if she could just get her blasted hands loose.

Arms crossed over her chest, the elf gave an eyeroll.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

"Oh yes, of course." From the depths of his cloak the hulking man removed a scroll, thick fingers unrolling it and holding it up for the room to see, "- We are looking for her."

On the parchment a quite artistic etching of a pixeish face, a tiny upturned button nose underneath flyaway spiky hair. Across the top in thick bold letters WANTED and at the bottom a number with so many zeros, Blake was certain that it had to be a mistake. 

_Bounty Hunters!_

Having no qualms, Yang snatched at the scroll, looking at the newcomers and back at the scroll, and back at them again, 

"That's a King's Ransom!..... What did she do? Run off with the King's daughter."

Kasef let out a chuckle, 

"Wouldn't put it past her," 

Scowling, the elf deftly plucked the poster from Yang's hands, adding, smoothly, 

"- We have no wish to collect, but we are..." She paused as she carefully rolled it up, slipping it under her cloak out of sight, "- How shall I put it? .. In _need_ of her services."

From under the edge of her hood, Blake regarded the elf suspiciously.

"What makes you so sure she was here?"

The elf bit back,

"Because, she was!"

Eyebrows knitting together, the blonde, quired, 

"When?"

Shifting on his feet, Kasef offered,

"I believe she was the one who got away from you the other evening."

"Ahhhh, that one..... You know I thought it was odd she didn't take the bait."

"Wait? There was bait?" Blake asked, incredulously, 

Yang cast the brunette a sly smirk, 

"What else did you think the boxes were there for?" Addressing, Kasaf, and leaving Blake to stew, she continued, "- She took off like a shot towards The Manacle and no one _ever_ takes off in that direction, what with it being a City Watch watering hole and all!"

Kasef grinned as if like a proud father, giving Blake the distinct impression that he liked the lucky rogue, 

"I', she's a crafty one."

Irked, the elf glowered, 

"She's a pain in the arse is what she is... Now can we _please_ stay on task!" Lorelai leaned down towards the tied up thief, "- Now answer the question, have you seen her?" Her tone became menacing, "-I know all about the runespeak and the way your lot communicate...She's too much of a show off not to have left a mark!" Her bright blue eyes darted to the left,"-And I _would_ suggest ceasing what you are doing."

Blake's claws retracted away from the spindle.

_Fuck!_

Obstinately, she cocked her head, 

"No idea as to what you're referring to."

"Look," the soldier asked, "-Have you heard or seen anything?"

Leaning back, the Cerebani rolled her shoulders, that were now beginning to ache, 

"Nope.... And even if I had, I wouldn't tell you!"

Lorelai's face drew back in a murderous grimace and for a second Blake was certain she was about to get the head boxed off her. Instead, the elf inhaled through her nose deeply, gathering herself, before straightening up. 

"Come on, this one is a lost cause!"

"Oi!.... I take offense to that!"

Lorelai threw her a dark look and with a swish of her cloak tried to make a grand exit only to come up against Kasef's broad chest with a clank. 

"Get out of the bloody way!"

Shuffling to one side so she could pass, Kasef gave a small nod of acknowledgement, 

"Thanking you kindly for your time."

Ducking his head, he squeezed back out of the door to follow his companion. A loud scream of frustration echoing back into the outhouse, the groutling and her groutlets letting out startled squeaks and grunts in reply.

Resting her palms on the counter, the blonde leaned forward conspiratorially, 

"Have you seen her?"

"Course I have.... Not that they need to know."

Yang let out a loud belly laugh, 

"You really _are_ a piece of work!"

Ears twitched under the soft material under the hood and Blake tried to move her aching wrists, 

"Any chance you could maybe untie me.... I think my circulation is being cut off.... Won't run... Promise!... Just take the price of the meal out of the coin and call it even, eh?"

Crossing her arms over her chest and resting the sole of her boot on the chair, the blonde seemed deep in contemplation.

"How about I do you one better?" Blake's ears pricked up. "- I take the coin, and you come back here tomorrow, do a few hours honest graft for a hot meal and all the scraps you can carry for your friends?"

Making a show of weighing up her options though she knew it was the brightest of unexpected outcomes, she sighed, 

"Oh... I dunno.. I mean," She sucked in her teeth, "-Honest graft... That's a big ask!" Lilac eyes narrowed, skewing Blake to the seat. She acquiesced, "- Alright, alright. Deal!"

Yang tipped her head, with a smile, removing her foot from the chair, 

"Alright then." Picking up the tools of the thief's trade, she moved behind the Cerebani. Relief flooding through her at the sound of the cord being cut. Once loose, she rubbed at her sore wrists in a bid to get back some feeling. "-But I'm keeping this!"

Turning round in the seat, she was dismayed to find Yang pocketing her faithful blade. 

_Gods be dammit!_

Lacing her voice with honey, she asked, 

"You gonna leave me all defenseless on the mean streets of Dame's Point?"

Yang snorted, 

"Somehow, I doubt you're defenseless."

_Touche, blondie!_

In one fluid swift movement, Blake was at the counter, hurriedly pocketing her scant possessions, the meat and the bread rolls. As she slyly attempted to sleight of hand some of the coin into her pouch she heard, 

"Ah, ah, ah, cheeky!"

Holding up her hands in a stay of execution, she backed away slowly, inching towards the door as the blond never took her eyes off her. One hand behind her, Blake felt for the handle, fingers curling round the tell tale metal knob. Tail swishing at the sight of late afternoon light coating the barmaid in its soft glow. 

"See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow!"

In a burst of speed she whipped open the door, darted through it, took in her surroundings and peeled across the yard. Fingers working into a drainpipe, her toes working into small grooves in the surface of the stone work she scaled the building as if a demon from the abyss itself was on her very tail. Hefting herself onto the roof top, she took a second to cast a look back to find Yang standing in the doorway, one hand at her forehead, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she watched the Cerebani woman.

_What a trusting idiot_

With a flurry of her cloak, Blake took off across the rooftops, ignoring the twinge of regret in the pit of her stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

.  
.  
.  
Sunsetting on the horizon it was early evening when Blake dropped down in to a quiet alleyway near the agricultural quarter and the wide open space that on market day would be criss crossed with pens made up of wooden gates as far as the eye could see. 

A few goats milled about, paying her no mind as they continued chewing their cud, languishing together in a cosy pile as if the slightly cold wind that was coming out of the North gate was of no consequence to them. Blake crossed the square, skirting round the high walls that made up the culling lane that would lead down to the butchers, and tanners and all other assortments of vendors whose trade came from the buying and selling of animals.

She passed the Folly's Meadow, a small paddock that the ostlers used for the horses in the liveries. The creatures that grazed on the almost sparse pasture tossed their heads and skittered as she passed. Hardy little creatures perfect for the caravans and colder climates, deemed too small, too wild or too ugly for the wanna be heroes who had pressed onto to seek honour, glory and fortune from the spoils of war. 

Most of the livery owners were smart enough to keep the finer horses indoors far away from would be thieves and the temptation of turning them into dinner.

Besides, what the burly men would do to you if they caught you wasn't worth the hassle in the long run.

Rounding the corner she spied up head what she was looking for, neatly stepping to one side as a huge covered over cart rumbled past, its wheels sending up a gloopy spray of mud from the ruts made by a continuous trade. Far over she heard the recognisable scrape of metal on stone and a heavy thump on wood. Heading towards it, she peeked round the edge, relaxing as she spied familiar broad grey shoulders rippling as they worked, shoveling manure onto a wide cart with a wet splat.

It looked as if the other workers had called it day, as the lone orc hunched down to scoop up another shovelful. Making her approach, she called out, 

"Hey, Fidgug.... You the only one on?"

Straightening up, the orc turned with the custom made shovel in his hands nearly taking her out at the waist. She nimbly jumped back so as not to get splattered from the watery manure that sprayed off its edges. Much taller, and wider than Blake, Fidgug was still classed as quite small in comparison to the rest of his race. Closely shorn hair, a bare barrel chest, a broken tusk and an eye watering crooked underbite from a badly healed broken jaw in his past, he let out a grunt, 

"Ullo, Miss Belladonna."

Even from her vantage point she could make out a swollen shut eye and dark purple bruising. 

_Not again_

"What happened to your face?"

"Wot appned to yours?"

"Got hit in the face with a tea tray."

The orc let out a snort, 

"Me too!"

Hiding a deep sigh and trying to not sound accusatory, Blake went to take the huge shovel from his large hands, 

"Fidgug..." His large shoulders drooped as he gave a miserable sniff, "-You've got to stop letting her hit you."

His brow furrowed taking on the appearance of mountains, 

"It's ow orcs communicate."

With gentle reproach, she took the shovel from his unresisting grasp, leaning it against a nearby post and took one monstrous paw in her own, leading him over to a nearby plank on top of a few crates that made up a makeshift bench. 

The plank bowed under the extreme weight, tipping Blake against him, 

"I'm not an expert on orc behaviour but I do know that hitting your partner isn't right."

Fidgug began to blubber, 

"She dont mean it... She gets lary after a grog or two n she allus says she's sorry." Huge tears began to roll down dripping off the end of his nose, "-I dunno wot else ta do."

Reaching up, she gently stroked at the back of his head, in an attempt to give him some sort of comfort, 

"You ever thought about leaving?"

"An go where, Miss Belladonna?.... Look at us, folks think we're monsters!"

_Can't argue with that._

"I struggld enuff gettin this job."

And she understood his quandary, adding a brightness to her voice in a bid to draw him out of his melancholy, 

"Marshell, over at Rivers Hallow is looking for protection on a drive. Says he wants to try his luck at the markets down in Bridgegrasp."

Wiping at his snotty nose with hairy back of his hand, there came a sickle of hope in his voice, 

"You fink he'd take me on?"

"Sure!... A big strapping orc like you, with dark vision to boot would put off most bandits."

"You really fink so?"

"I know so!"

The orc fumbled in the depths of his torn trousers, pulling out a dirty looking rag, blowing his nose in huge honks. Blake pressed the issue, 

"You'll find him having a drink at the Golden Fleece on Suttonsday. Tell him I sent you." She spared a thought for the usual clientele,"- Maybe knock at the back door though, eh?"

Nodding his head, the orc stuffed the sopping rag back into his trouser pocket and the thief tried not to cringe. Fidgug got up, causing the plank to spring back to shape and launching the lighter Cerebani women a few inches in the air before her arse collided back on the wood and she inhaled a small hiss at the smart in her scrapped buttocks.

He lumbered over into the depths of a lean to before returning with a small brown hessian sack. Giving it to Blake, he offered, 

"Is all I cud gaver. With it bein wet an all."

Inspecting it's contents, Blake smiled, 

"No, no... anything you've got is good." Hands felt the slightly damp straw, near a fire it would dry out fairly sharpish. She was surprised to find a smaller sack with a few handful of oats that wriggled a little with weavel but she was certain it's intended destination wouldn't mind the extra crunch, She looked up at the orc, "- You outdid yourself today... Thank you, Fidgug.!"

Swinging the sack over her shoulder, she attempted to give the slightly happier orc a hug, unable to get her arm round his back. He enveloped her in thick arms, giving her what he no doubt thought was a gentle squeeze that squashed her up against him and she was glad of her busted nose so she couldn't smell the sweat and manure that always lingered around him in a cloud.

When he let go, she took off back towards the entrance, pausing to shout back, 

"Don't forget.... Marshell, Golden Fleece, Suttonsday!"

Fidgug gave a nod that he had heard before he resumed his shovelling, hazy heat rising from the swath cut into the freshly uncovered manure pile.

Fleet of foot, Blake continued on, passing vendors who were closing up shop for the evening, removing wares from the windows so as not to tempt those who plied their trade in the cover of darkness. Other shopkeepers lit candles in their windows, ever optimistic about evening economics and hoping to catch people coming home from where ever it was they came from, casting a cosy glow out onto the cracked paving stones. 

Torch boys and girls, made up of grimy humans and goblins with the long bitchumed polearms, attempted to the light the various torches dotted along the street. Small children atop ladders, dexterous fingers pouring precious oil on the ones too damp to catch, whilst, what looked like an older goblin boy, but could very well be an adult, you couldn't tell with goblins, worked at sparking the rags on the ends of the polearms with a battered tinder box, teeny sparks fizzling like sprites only to be outshone by the brightness of the orange flame when it caught, guttering and whipping in the wind as his colleagues darted off to illuminate the streets before dusk gave way completely.

Various carts and carriages made up the traffic of the town, whilst the pavements filled with people of all races, heads hunkered down in their shoulders in an attempt to hide from the uncharacteristically cold early autumn wind. Other's held their justacorp, cloaks or coverings close against the weather and would be pilferers. She passed by a handsome half orc, accompanied by a blue skinned tiefling dressed in pastel colours and an unusual style, coin purse winking invitingly as she spun round in delight at something in the window and Blake cursed the barmaid at the potential bounty she was missing out on.

Nipping across the thoroughfare, she took a right at an intersection, heading into the narrows and leaving behind the bustling, fully illuminated street. Here the buildings were squashed into each other, higgledy piggledy, all different shapes and sizes, the shops cruder and darker as the multiple storeys on top buckled in towards each other. It was said that on the very uppermost floors neighbours from either side of the street could lean out of their windows and shake hands. .

Many an irate husband or wife had chased a lothario out of one house into the other to a musical score of screams from the philandering partner and jeers from the rest of the street enjoying the entertainment. A naked lothario was the only type of pale moon that could penetrate the gloom that was cast by the overhanging buildings. 

Wet washing, flapping on washing lines overhead, and how cobblestones underfoot abruptly gave way to a mixture of mulched pebbles indicated the change from business to residential and where the narrows of Falseham began in earnest. Here the street torches were few and far between, tending to be provided by the owners of the scant stores and taverns themselves. Those with a sense of survival kept their eyes down and their tongues in their heads. 

If an unfortunate lost soul managed to wander off the beaten track this far then they better hope that The Lady was feeling particularly charitable, lest they end up a a brown smear on the walls and a pair of new boots gleaming in the swap shop window in the morning.

Down here, ginnels branched off to darker places, that even she had never traversed on foot, sudden sharp turns that made seeing where you had come from practically impossible and easy to become dreadfully lost in. 

_Dread_ being the operative part of the word, being that's what you felt once you realised that the surrounding shadows didn't remain still but moved. 

They were places you did not step into unless invited and even then it was at your own peril. The hushed rumours of what happened down there dare not bare repeating.

She waved at what looked like a particular mossy piece of wall, only for a something that resembled a hand to peel off and give a wiggle of acknowledgement. There came a shout from above and she instinctively darted under the nearest overhang towards the moving brickwork, just in time as there came a loud splattering behind her.

_At least they were polite enough to give a warning._

Shivering in the cold, she pulled up beside the moving wall, ears picking up miniscule sounds of grating as she became the focus of two intelligent brown eyes. Small furry bodies scurried past her feet to the fresh puddle of slop that had been tipped from above. 

With scaly tails flicking the rats began to feed. Blake caught movements in the shadows as suddenly, almost faster than the eye could see, a rather enterprising Gnome shot out, whacking a few rats over the head with a garish looking weapon causing the rest to scatter with high pitched squeals. One darted towards the thief only for large rocky foot to stamp on it, catching the Gnome's attention, 

"Nicely done there." the Gnome stuffed its catch into a sack, dragging it behind as it came up on the pair, "- Is it ok if I have it?"

The Troll simply lifted up it's foot, holding it out and the Gnome set to work scrapping up what was left of the creature. Blake swallowed bile at it's pancaked corpse. In silence, the troll and the thief observed how the Gnome happily worked, using a boot to kick in the already squashed rat into the over full sack, hefting it over it's shoulder, doffing its cap and disappearing back into a gap in between two houses no human could fit down.

"Got a nice patch of mushrooms growing there, Wallis."

The troll's craggy face broke into a smile, revealing surprisingly white teeth that glittered. One or two were missing. 

"Miz Galdowhag says a boy gotta look good if he wants to go a courtin."

Not entirely sure that she wanted to know the mating rituals of trolls, she went against her better judgement, 

"Oooh, dating?" She nudged him with her shoulder, nearly bouncing off the solid mass," -You got your eye on someone?"

Two pink spots appeared on the surface of brick and Wallis mumbled, 

"Tezzi..." He gave Blake a hopeful look, "-You know him?" She shook her head, "-He works ov'er at Croftons feed... He's gots a crag that make a troll weak in the gooolies."

Blake had no idea what 'crags' or 'gooolies' were, but if the swooning of the troll beside her was anything to go by, she could hazard a guess. 

"I'm gonna ask him to the Grangen Stomp, once Miz Galdowhag seys I can go."

"Good for you!..... Is she in?"

The troll slowly moved to one side, a sound of grinding and clunking, fine spray of dust falling away as limbs moved. A hand wrapped around a hidden ring, lifting up a very well camouflaged trapdoor. Stepping down into the gloom, she waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust as the trapdoor came down and the muffled sounds of Wallis moving over to step on the heavy metal door dislodging a fine shower of debris. Keen eyesight picking out the all too familiar steps rimmed with heavy copper wiring at the lips to stop any one from slipping, she made her way further into the depths and a warren of basements.

Muffled echoes of someone hard at work as a secondary guide, Blake made her way towards it, giving a quick succession of knocks in very particular places, she waited patiently. There came a sliding of something and two eyes appeared in a tiny slit followed by a high pitched enquiry full of suspicion, 

"Who's there?" 

Blake tipped to left, leaning down so the pair of overly large eyes could see her,

"Is just me."

"Ah, Blake, deary!" The cheerey reply, "-Just a second." 

The tinkle of numerous chains being unlocked and bolts sliding back was the only sound for what seemed like eons, until the door was pulled back to reveal a small halfling woman, blondish hair giving way to grey and half missing eyebrows. She was wearing a heavy duty leather apron and fingerless leather gloves. Two spry, intelligent eyes magnified by two jam jar bottoms, encased in wire that looped back over ears, looked up at her.

Rastoya Galdowhag was renowned in Falseham for a number of things, all of which was evident as Blake stooped to get through the door and into the toasty warm workshop. On counters, jars bubbled in an array of bright colours in amongst alien looking contraptions in various stages of completion. Hunched over, the halfing shuffled back into the rooms, hefting a kettle onto a oddly shaped metal stove.

"Come in, come in, sit down."

"Is it ok if I hang this up first?" Rastoya peered up at her and back at the sack, the thief added, "- Its bedding for Alulk, needs to dry out a little."

Turning her back, the small halfling woman removed the leather apron, hanging it up on a nail and began searching through cupboards, 

"Put it up there... You know how it works?"

"I do, Miss Galdowhag."

Reaching for the complicated system of ropes and pulleys, the Cerebani lowered a wooden rack that hung over the stove, tying it off so it wouldn't be too low to catch alight, before rearranging the sack so it could take advantage of the dry heat.

Placing two ceramic cups on a upturned crate, the halfling spooned out some leaves into a metal teapot, dropping in a little bit of powder. From a tin she carefully selected two confectionaries just as the kettle on the stove let out a piercing whistle.

The two women moved around each other with practiced ease, Blake grabbing a thick rag and lifting the kettle just as Rastoya flipped back the teapot lid, holding it out. Blake carefully poured in the scalding water, so as not to splash, until the halfling woman gave a hum of satisfaction.

Magnified eyes, looking at Blake's face, giving a little shake of her head, she plopped herself down on a cosy looking armchair by the stove, before setting the teapot down on the makeshift table, giving it a stir and leaving it to steep. Hot steam curled from it's spout in a continuous wisp, matching the curls that was already rising from the hessian sack of bedding.

"What news do you have for me today?"

Slipping into a nearby rocking chair, Blake regarded the tinkerer. Though Miss Galdowhag hardly left her workshop she always had her finger on the pulse of the town. She was said to be at the centre of a vast network of street urchins, thieves and vagabonds, a high speed swapping of information, greasing of palms, shifting of dubiously acquired goods. 

Anything to sell of value, came through her, but to cross her would be at your own peril, you might end up in the river or never found at all. A select few were permitted to call her by her first name to her face lest they lose their tongue.

However, you remained on her good side, she was an ally of the highest calibre, having given many harbour in the darkest of times. Small nibble hands, poured out the tea and added a drop of milk before she offered a mug of the piping hot beverage to the thief. Graciously, Blake took it with a smile and watched as the halfling settled back to get comfy in the chair, taking a delicate sip. Keen eyes, watched Blake over the rim of the cup, as a sort of reminder that she had been asked a question. 

"I do have some news..." Ears flickering towards the bubbles that popped in the strangely shaped beakers, "- The visitor from Silverward... She has a tail."

Poker faced, the halfling took another sip, 

"Does she now?"

Eyes darted to Blake's, that was lazily curling up at the edge of her cloak,

"Not that sort of tail."

The halfling gave a small chuckle, 

"Do tell."

Taking another slow sip of her tea and pleased at the sweetness of its taste and how it warmed her sides, Blake added conversationally, 

"An elf and a Yeshijani warrior.." Still Rastoya's features didn't move. 

_You already know this!_

"The elf, I'd say is noble if her clothes are anything to go by and the Yeshijani, wouldn't be someone to pick a fight with."

The halfling simply selected a confectionary, pushing the plate towards Blake in encouragement.

"There's a princely sum on her head!"

At that, eyes narrowed a fraction at the corners. 

_Didn't know that, did you?_

"How much?"

Blake leaned over, finding a piece of charcoal and a scrap of paper that didn't have strange markings, writing down the number and handing it to the tinkerer. Reading it, the halfling woman let out a low whistle before crumpling it up and tossing it expertly into the flames, 

"How did you come by this?"

"They asked me themselves," Eyes became glimets, and Blake rushed to not be on the receiving end, "-They aren't Bounty Hunters.... Say they are in need of her services. "

"How did they know to ask you?"

Blake let out a deep sigh, 

"I got caught!"

"And you came here?"

"Not like that, Miss Galdowhag.... I know better than to be _that_ stupid. ... I'm kinda keen on keeping my ears attached to my head, thank you very much!"

The halfling woman relaxed slightly, 

"What happened?" 

"Got caught doing a runner from the Bear and Sickle."

The loud melodious laugh that filled the room was not the reaction she was expecting. Her ears flattened and her tail gave an involuntary angry swish.

_What the abyss?_

"I see you met the barmaid.... Was wondering what happened to your snout."

"You know about her?" Blake's voice rose an octave, "-There's no runes of thieves speak, that I could see."

"And there wouldn't be!"

She put down her cup, leaning forward, tail continuing to swish in annoyance,

"Why the abyss, not?"

Rastoya wriggled back to get comfy, a smirk on her lips a she kicked her feet to rest on table, enjoying the irate display, 

"Cause they ask not to..." Rastoya paused, a look of gleeful mischief on her features before she parted, "- on account of it ruining their sport!"

"_Sport!_" Blake hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits and tail growing twice in size "-Are you kidding me?"

The halfling let out a dark chuckle, 

"Nope!"

Blake glowered as Rastoya took a bite of her confectionary, talking with her mouthful, 

"They aren't a bad lot... No one ever steals from them twice, mind you... being they're rumbled but there's plenty a chancer got a clattering." She swallowed, "- Make you do an honest bit of graft, " She pulled a face at the word honest, as if it was foul," - Clean a few plates, scrub a few bogs and be on your merry way... Not a bad shake, all things considering."

Sulkily, she bit into the cake. 

_What a shower of bastards!_

"I'm gonna need another blade."

"Again? What happened to the other?"

"It got confiscated by the barmaid..... and I want it at cost price on account of you not availing me of pertinent information!"

The halfling, steepled her fingers, eyes searching the Cerebani, 

"You know something, Blake, if it was anyone else trying to pull one like that I'd have their guts for garters!"

Blake gave her a smug grin, 

"Ah, but you like me!"

"That I do and I dare say I'd be on the receiving end of frost if I was to attempt to touch a hair on your pretty little and very _expensive_ head!"

A gentle warning in the apparently friendly words, that she was walking on thin ice. 

"Have a look over there and pick one, and I'll do the do."

Getting up, Blake trawled the array of blades on the counter, choosing one that looked like high quality tempered metal that would keep a good edge, but not too fancy a handle that she could be accused of taking advantage. Holding it up, she asked,

"This one ok?"

Rastoya gave a little nod. 

A code of knocks on the door echoed through the room. Getting up, the halfling began to clear way the tea cups and evidence that she had , had a guest,

"Best be off, Blake, Got an appointment. "

Collecting the sack from the drying rack, Blake gathered her cloak around her before reaching for a dog eared book in a bookcase. With a clink of levers, the bookcase slid to one side revealing a gloomy passageway. Darting back over, she pressed her lips to the tinkerer's aged cheek, 

"Thanks for the tea, Rastoya." 

The halfling gave her shoulder a gentle pat, 

"Say hello to the Galths for me."

"Will do."

The knocking repeated, 

"Shooo, now be off with you." 

Stepping into the narrow pathway, there came a slow grinding and the cosy warmth of the workshop disappeared as the bookcase closed behind her and the telltale scraping of furniture being dragged over the floor muffled in the dark. 

Stealthily, she took off onto the next part of her journey.

Winding through the ginnels and pathways that made up the maze of the understreet, she was able to ignore the dots and divets etched into the walls to help those whose eyesight was lacking, having traversed the path many times. Anyone who was unused to it could get easily lost down here and many an unsuspecting idiot had, relying on the mercy of those who dwelled here to guide them back to safety, at a price, of course. 

She passed by a wide entrance that would lead back to where the upper echelons of society lived in Cliffbury Mews, with their indoor plumbing and wash basins. It was a prime spot for mulching, and today was no exception as her keen darkvision picked out gnomes and goblins, dredging the deep canal with highly engineered contraptions, some she was sure Rastoya had created. 

Sticking to the narrow pathways and ignoring whatever it was that dripped over head, she pressed on until she came to a sluice gate. Scaling the rope ladder that hung there, she took a left, still high up from the water mark and carried on towards a weak light and eerie echoes.

It was a square, or rather a dome of sorts. Tiny little ramshackle sheds built on top of each other aligned the walls, starting at Blake's waist so as not to get washed away during a heavy storm. Gnomes working little skiffs, poles pushing off the bottom of the sewer bed, that to them was a wide river as they ferried folks across.

Little gnomish children speeding across solidly made zip lines, or filling up baskets, working winches to carry them over to the other side. A few looked up, shouting out at the thief when they spotted her. She ducked out of the way as a gnomish boy whizzed past at high speed at head height only for the basket to crash into the wall tipping him out much to the enjoyment of his peers who hooted and hollered.

One in particular was recognisable, swapping from Gnomish to Regular, 

"Oi, Catspaw, Catch!"

A tiny Gnomish boy with a shock of bright red hair leapt from a height with no fear of his life landing with a soft pffft on Blake's shoulder. She carefully picked her way through the throng, one hand reaching up to make sure the little boy was secure as Gnomish folk scuttled past her feet. 

"How's your Mum and Dad?"

"Good good.. She's gonna have the bairn any day now, so the healer says."

Arriving at a shed that appeared no different from the others, the boy leapt off her shoulder onto a swinging gangway, darting across it and pushing open a door, yelling in Gnomish. She called out, 

"Is it ok to open, Vren?"

"Yeah, yeah, Is all good."

Carefully she unhooked a clasp on the side of the house, and gently teased open the wall. The whole front of the house came away, revealing a sitting room, kitchen, a flight of stairs and bedrooms. Each room was about 8 inches high and about a metre wide. Four Gnomish faces broke into smiles at the sight of their visitor, with a chorus of various greetings.

Vren picked up his little sister, hoisting her onto his hip as she gurgled happily. On a small chair with his splinted leg elevated, stocking foot just visible under a blanket, sat Enizu and on a makeshift truckle bed his wife who was as round as she was tall.

Blake took the wrapped up Groutling from her pocket, gently teasing it into the small space. 

"Got a little something for you! And Miss Galdowhag sends her regards."

Enizu shifted in his seat as if making to get up only to be stopped by his son. 

"I'll get it Da." 

He unwrapped the package, his eyes going wide at the sumptuous feast, 

"Cor, Catspaw.. That's a right baggins."

"Should be enough to last you a while... Call it payment for the roofing."

Struggling to sit up, Mrs Galth, breathed, 

"Bless you, sweetheart."

Enizu and his wife gave her a grateful grin. The father beaming with pride, 

"My boy went out with the gaffer's and made sure it was done.. Not too soon either with the weather turning."

Vren put down his baby sister, casting a glance at Blake to make sure she was keeping an eye on the edge and began carving at the piece of meat.

"You'll stay for a bite, eh?" 

Giving the family a warm smile, Blake replied,

"Not today, I'm afraid. Still got a few bits to do."

The two youngest children couldn't hide their dismay, but brightened as she hastily added, 

"I promise I'll be back in a few days."

With one light forefinger, she guided the little Gnomish toddler back towards her brother, peeking in to the gap to make sure no tiny hands or fingers could run the risk of getting caught as she closed the front of the house on the scene of the happy family and secured the mechanism.

Once again she took off, weaving this way, expertly navigating the understreet until she spied the tell tale pattern of grating overhead. Cautiously she lifted it, to peer out, scanning to make sure nobody was lurking in the shadows. Agilely, she slid out, up onto the back street, very very carefully lowering the grate back down and made a mental note to tell Enizu that the hinges were in need of oiling as they gave a squeak in protest.

On the edges of Falseham there was the neighborhood of Bleakbrook, the occupants of which would class the narrows as swanky. Here people lived in lean tos made up any material that could be gathered. The fancier ones had weak puffs of smoke coming up from their sagging and buckled rooves. Others simply huddled closer to barrels set alight in the evening. 

Mostly made up of the peoples who were deemed undesirable or had simply fallen on hard times, the Scalies as they were often referred to paid no heed to her as she moved through the tightly packed tents and hovels. She was merely another cloaked and hooded figure that wanted to be left alone. 

Here there were no rats to speak of, as rat meat was a feast for many, even cats and dogs stayed clear.

Arriving at a newly repaired hovel, the fresh wooden tiles bright in comparison to the rest, Blake moved a rock with her foot and untied a piece of string that worked as a handle of sorts. Stepping into the dank space, she picked out a dark lump in the corner as it shifted. A snort and a growl as the creature sniffed the air. Knowing the drill, she waited until the dark lump, sat up and a voice in broken Regular, 

"Blake, is that you?"

The tiny space had a miniscule brazier, made up from a battered barrel and a crude pipe that went up into the roof. Mismatched furniture that had seen better days filled the space and in the far corner a bed made of pallets. It was a depressing existence as she stepped onto the room, water plinking in an assortment of pots and buckets in a bid to catch the worst of the downpour that had seeped through the waterlogged roof. 

"Hey" She called out, softly,"- I'm coming in."

The mass rolled over, struggling to shift onto the edge of the bed. Two milky eyes stared unseeing as round little ears twitched towards her. Dumping the sack onto a broken chair, Blake set to work. Taking off her cloak and rolling up her sleeves, she poked at the embers of the fire, a two coals glowing red, giving off the weakest of heat. 

Tossing on some dry straw from the sack, she poked at the embers until they caught before ferreting out a few dry wooden tiles left over from the Gnomes repairs. Once the fire was seen to, she moved over, getting under one of the old Gnoll's armpits and tried to ignore how heartbreakingly easy it was to move him over to the chair near the fire. 

You're far too light old boy.

The breath in his bony concave chest whistled and rasped as she eased him back into the chair. Keeping her voice light and cheery, she offered, 

"There we go.... I see Enizu's boys called round."

One liver spotted Gnoll paw patted at her hand, 

"Thank you."

Once he was wrapped in the threadbare blanket, she took to emptying the buckets by tossing them out onto a pathway a little aways from the door. Then she found a blackened metal tin, poured in milk that looked as if it was going green followed by the oats from Fidgug. Precariously, she balanced it in the fire, leaving it to heat as she began pulling off the damp straw from the pallet bed and laying down the fresh fodder. 

_It was sparse enough but it would have to do._

Hunting around the bevelled shelves her fingers clasped round a thin roll. It was made up of a multitudes of yellows and whites as layer after layer had been carefully poured over a threadbare wick. Holding it to the fire until it lighted, she dripped someone the wax onto a plate and then stuck the candle into it, waiting until it set steadfast. 

It was pointless really, given Alulk's lack of sight and her own keen vision but it somehow cheered the squalid place. 

"Dinners nearly ready."

In the yellowish glow of the candlelight, Blake could make out the greyish hue under the brackish coloured skin of the Gnoll. He grinned at her with toothless gums, 

"You're a good girl, Blake..... Did I ever tell you the story of Yaseke Yin Lee? You remind me of her."

Breaking up the soft rolls into chunks, she dropped them into the cooking pot, stirring the milk and oats with a wooden spoon, 

"I remind you of a soldier who became a monk?"

She listened as he told her for the umpteenth time how he had been a foot soldier in something he called the Osted army. He certainly had the scars to carry such a tale, but Blake had made many enquiries and nobody she had spoken to had heard of such a place. He had often told her how he had been on a ship, part of a magnificent fleet, until the very Gods themselves had sent a storm that dashed it to smithereens. He had washed ashore in Dame's Point and had been living there ever since. 

She had checked down the docks, looking to maybe find someone who knew of the place so that she could send a letter to any surviving relatives, so that he wouldn't be alone when the time came, but nobody could recall seeing signs of a fleet floundering at sea, not even unusual driftwood.

Blake put his tall tale down to confusion that came with old age and maybe mixing up a story he had heard or a legend he had read. She also wondered if it was his way of telling her to leave as she often spoke of a young woman who had turned her back on all she knew to forge a new life and identity for herself, a gentle nudge for her to bite the arrow and take one of the caravans to far off lands.

Grabbing a thick rag, she carefully wrapped it around the bottom of the now warm cooking plate, and guiding Alulk's paws to hold it steady on his lap. Pressing the spoon into his other paw, she asked, 

"Can you manage?"

He grunted in reply, fingers wrapping round the handle, hairless round ears flickering, listening for the sound of wood on metal. Blake retreated to sit on the pallets bed and watched him as he ate, dribbles of milk down his chin. He hummed at the taste. 

"Oats and Weavels?" He asked, "-Weavels are good."

Casting a look around, she tossed some of the old bedding on the fire and was glad of her swollen nose, not wishing to hazard exactly why the bedding had been sodden in the first place. With the Summer being uncharacteristically wet she had no doubt that fodder would triple in price in the coming Winter months and if Fidgug did leave with Marshell, she wouldn't be able to rely on the manure pits.

_Maybe she could do some trading or ask around if anyone had blankets to spare?_

Once Alulk was done, she set to helping him move onto the pallet bed, not liking how bones protruded from under paper thin skin as she eased him back and tucked the threadbare but now warm blanket up around his shoulders and under his chin. She waited until his breathing shallowed, holding her own as sometimes it stopped for an unusually long time before starting up again with a snort. He murmured something as she quietly moved a urinal bucket a little closer surrounded by pebbles whereby his feet would feel it.

Blowing out the candle she cast a mournful glance around, throwing on the rest of the damp fodder, which hissed and she wondered when the day would arrive that she would come upon him, having no need of her services anymore as she doubted he would make it through the winter, especially without better nutrition. Gnolls needed meat to survive and though he never complained, she knew deep down that Alulk was slowly starving to death.

_Maybe tomorrow she could ferret out some pottage and jelly if she skirted by the butchers quarter? Or even some bones so she could make a broth?_

Silently slipping out of the door, she checked that it was secure and wouldn't blow open if caught by the wind that was beginning to pick up before setting off back the way she had come. The first chance she got, she scaled a building up onto the rooftops of the town, a sense of relief washing over her. 

Lights winking and glittering from windows behind which lives played out, the skyline made up of crooked chimney pots smoke curling, darker against the backdrop of the night, she would almost call it beautiful. 

She took a moment to savour it before taking off at high speed leaping from roof to roof, tucking, rolling and swinging through the air, almost from muscle memory. 

_A hot meal and all the scraps you can carry._

An offer that was beginning to look mighty inviting. 

Maybe she _should_ give it a shot? 

_A few hours work would be a small price to pay if it meant being able to help others in the long run. Right?_

Upsetting a flock of pigeons who startled and hooted at her rude intrusion, she rounded the corner and checked the traps she had set before she had left for the day. Finding them undisturbed, she diligently reset them and squeezed in between the brick work, wriggling at last minute and climbed down a little ways, letting herself in through a tiny window, softly landing on floorboards and into an abandoned attic she called home.

Exhausted, she discarded her cloak, hanging if off a nail and shrugged out of her dirty clothes, _they could wait until the morning._ She slipped into a billowy patched up sailors shirt, promptly collapsing face first into the bed and drawing the warm woolen blanket over her ears. Tomorrow she would give some deeper thought to the offer but for now, she needed some sleep. 

Feeling under the lumpy pillow, she relaxed when her fingers curled around a familiar dagger handle. 

Curling in on herself she drifted off to the hooting of an owl and the burrowing of creatures in the roof.


	4. Chapter 4

.  
.  
Glass bottles clinking off each other was the first noise that teased Blake from a deep slumber, dancing on the edge of her finely attuned hearing. She pulled a face and snuggled down further under the cosy nest of the blanket intent on remaining in the warmth of a summers dream and annoyingly bright golden hair. 

The second sound, or rather a lack thereof, an unsettling quiet is what really woke the exhausted Cerebani woman, fingers curling round her blade as she groggily rolled over. 

_Who the abyss?_

Early morning light filtered in through the window, six bright squares on the worn floorboards, refracting light into the far corners of the room. Groggily, she sat up, ears straining to hear if the person who had set off the bottles was attempting to circumvent the secondary traps. 

A long silence followed by a number of piercing whistles in quick succession and a tinkle.

Deciphering the calls, she relaxed slightly, sinking back into the bed. 

_News was most certainly swift this morning._

Her eyes watered and her cheekbones ached. She could feel a ghost of a headache creeping through the muzzy woollen feeling of wakefulness, a reminder of the day before's escapades. 

Gingerly, she touched the bridge of her nose, a sharp intake of air at the sharp smart.

_Fuck that barmaid and the horse she rode in on!_

She relied massively on her sense of smell and now she was going to be forced to be extra cautious. 

_Seriously, fuck her!_

She examined her hands, a rising peevishness at the sight of one her long claws snapped at the ends and how her palms were grazed. Attempting to sit up, her tender buttocks extra sensitive to the course material of the bed blanket also announced their neglect.

She felt like she had gone ten rounds with an orc brawler and had been trampled in the process. 

She wanted nothing more than to sleep it off and spend the day under her duvet, reading a good book but her stomach gurgled and if she wasnt quick off the mark she would miss the ample opportunity of the market's morning rush.

Reluctantly, she tore back the blanket, easing herself gently to the edge of the bed giving herself a few seconds to adjust. Rolling out her shoulders in abid to relieve the stiff tension, she stretched before beginning her morning ritual, consisting of what most folk do first thing and carefully tipping it out the window into a gutter just to the side. 

Poking at the tiny fireplace, she teased it back to life, blowing under the small embers until the tinder caught alight. Satisfied, she poured a little water into a pot and set it to boil. 

Pulling out a few produce crates, she was grateful that she had the foresight to keep the odds and ends when she found the herbs she was looking for, breaking them between her fingers into a chipped cup salvaged long ago. 

Finding a soothing balm, she liberally applied it to her scrapped buttocks before easing over them a pair of clean baggy trousers, slipping her feet into her boots, tucking in the ends of the pants into the boot tops before tying them securely, wincing as a broken toe claw caught on the edge.

Moving on, she was dismayed to find she had no clean shirt, choosing instead to tuck her billowy sailors sleep shirt into the pants tying the twine round her hips then a wide belt she had pilfered from a stall up town, round her torso. Three buckles at intervals held it closed, working as a sort of corset and an added layer of protection.

Finally, she topped it off with her hip belt and coin purse, sliding the spare dagger into its sheath before moving on to brush her hair. 

Peering into a cracked piece of mirror, brown spots speckling its surface where the silver covering had given way to age, she was able to see just how much damage had been done. She looked an absolute fright. Under her golden eyes, pitch black rings with hints of deep purple. Her nose was almost as bulbous as an elderly dwarf in comparison to it's usual state.

She looked almost like she belonged in the bar knuckle pits of Falseham.

Carefully, she dabbed more of the balm over the bridge of her nose, gritting her teeth as she worked under her eyes in a bid to take down the swelling. 

_I should go back in give her a clattering. It wasn't right, cold cocking someone like that. Maybe a dark alleyway would show her the way of things?_

But that hadn't been what images had plagued her slumber. Far the opposite in fact. 

Her tail curled up, whipping back and forth as she spared a thought to what her dreams had been made of.

Plinking of bubbles colliding with metal, bursting as they danced across the surface, minuscule pops like sprites on the Callows, as if singing their joyous chorus alerted Blake to the boiling of the water in the pan and it's readiness to be poured.

Pouring out its contents, she carefully placed it on a sideboard and poured a little into a cold bowl of water to heat it and the rest of the hot water into the bedpan. Swilling it round, she poured it out the window before gathering a cloth and washing as much as her face as she could without wiping off the balm, her neck, her hands and her wrists. 

She had washed in the water barrel outside only a few days before and wouldn't need one for at least a few more. 

Gathering her dirty clothes in a sack, she paused at her cloak, giving it an experimental shake, and grimacing at it's stained quality. 

Stuffing it into the sack as well, she pulled aside a thin gaily coloured hanging on the far wall to reveal a small door. Sliding back the bolt, she teased it open, peering into the gloom of the next door dwelling's attic. Seeing that the footprints in the dust hadn't changed since last she checked, the Cerebani woman stashed the sack to the left hand side, tying a blue ribbon to the string before ducking back into her own living space and securing the bolts.

Keeping an eye on how the six squares of light had shifted slightly, she took a long slow sip of the hot cup of liquid, savouring the heat.

The herbs were potent and many chose to imbibe them via smoke but she had no wish for the healing properties to discombobulate her entirely.

Without her sense of smell she would much prefer to keep her wits about her, thankyou very much, and the last thing she needed was to be sluggish and seeing pretty patterns on the wall. The wooly feeling in her head beginning to clear somewhat, replaced with a sharpness and clarity the thief was ready to start her day.

Tucking a scarf into the collar of the shirt, she teased it over her ears before slipping into an old battered cloak she kept for emergencies, securing it with a pin. It had been her old one, before she had been able to replace it with the better quality one. It wasn't treated to repel weather, nor half as warm but it had been trusty in the past and would suffice in a pinch.

Carefully, she eased through the narrow window, fingers seeking out the handholds she had painstakingly carved into the brickwork, before securing the lattice hook and working her way up over the lip of the trellis and on to the roof.

Spotting the thieves speak cipher of stones and bottle caps, she allowed herself a small breather.

Alulk was alive and one of her acquaintances had been so kind as to see to him. Enizu's wife had given birth to not one but unexpectedly three children.

Blake's let out a low whistle to no one in particular at that.

The City Watch had made a spate of arrests and raids in the lower quarters and more insidiously, some of those arrested hadn't turned up on the books.

Thoughtfully, she began to manoeuvre the thieves speak, in what looked like no particular pattern. Telling those who had a mind to decipher them to be careful and go to ground. 

No Doubt Miss Gladowhag would already know of the dark deeds. 

Once again her stomach gurgled, reminding her she had rather pressing matters to attend to. Resetting the traps, she gave a quick glance around before wrapping her cloak tight around her and setting off across the rooftops.

X-X-X 

The market square was thronging with folks of all shapes and sizes as Blake rounded the corner. In comparison to the previous lacklustre market days of late, it was surprisingly busier than usual. Vendors vying for the premium spots had set up shop early closest to the throughfare or on the edges of the fountains. Those a little slower to rise, more than likely due to the unexpected influx, were forced into the outskirts as they began to raise the poles of their tents or open the side flaps of their carts. 

Rows up on rows of stalls, laid out in some semblance of order. A small dwarf surrounded by huge hulking masses of body guards moved from stall to stall collecting the market toll. 

Even this early there was the tell tale shine of uniforms belonging to the City Watch, no doubt looking for any iota of trouble. Blake made sure to head in the opposite direction keeping close to the back of the stalls and tents and narrow ginnels set between them.

Bright early morning sunshine, that carried an almost brittle quality as if a weak attempt at dissipating the previous days and nights darks dealings, seemed to be infectious as vendors called for people to try their wares. 

Up in the sky gulls called to each other, dive bombing or cheekily edging closer only to be chased off with shouts and waving of arms. In the distance the sun twinkled off the water of the bay giving it an almost gemstone quality, hiding its usual turbulence. 

A small grubby faced urchin streaked past at full speed, with a rather out of breath, ruddy faced plump woman, with arms so thick the orphan would want to hope to not be on the receiving end, hot on his heels. 

Blake couldn't help but share a smirk with the kid as he ducked down a tiny slit, nimbly hopping over the ropes of the tents. The Cerebani made a display of doing the dodge, to the left and to the right as the woman tried to get past. She apologised profusely only to step out of the the way once she was sure the urchin has made some good distance. 

The Cerebani was surprised to see a handful of brightly coloured tents signifying the river folks, standing out in stark contrast to their drab counterparts. A sight not seen for months, the outside of their stalls was packed with shoppers eager to snap up the rare herbs and spices they were famed for sourcing. 

Weaving through the crowd, smartly nipping to occupy the space where others were not, feather light fingers felt their way into folds of clothes, a little nick here, a palming of things there. Before the unsuspecting victims knew what had occured, the nimble fingered thief had ducked down the side of the stalls, back amongst the carts and horses happily munching in their feed bags, tails lazily swishing as she passed.

Emptying the coin purses she had pilfered, she casually tossed them into the grate safe in the knowledge that someone in the Understreet would find them and make good use of them, she slid the meager haul into one of her own deep pockets before pressing on towards the food vendors, waving at those who she recognised.

To her left her ears picked up a commotion, an all too familiar spine chilling sound, causing her ears to flatten underneath her hood. Sidling in between a fishmongers and a grocers, she crept forward as the crowd of market goers pressed back to make way for the miserable procession. 

Making a display of checking the freshness of the fruits and vegetables, she strained to hear the mutterings of the crowd, some aghast, others annoyed and more concerningly, unwarranted agreement that they deserve what they got.

Under the watchful eye of the vendor she selected an apple, trailing her fingers over the divets and dots of braille and watching the fast working fingers of the merchant as he spoke the international language of merchants everywhere. Making sure that no one saw from where she plucked coin from within her clothing, she paid the price, not willing to draw attention by haggling, as snippets of conversation drifted towards her. 

"Rum business last night."

Apple firmly caught between her sharp teeth, she moved her fingers in quick succession, giving a small nod of thanks when the vendor flipped over an empty crate, pushing it out with his foot before moving further down to deal with another customer. Lightly, she hopped up on it, the extra two zhali's giving her some much needed height so she could see over the gathered crowd. 

At the head, members of the City Watch, fingers itching at the pommels of their shortswords, ready to be used at a moments notice, grim faced and eyes darting into the crowd. 

In the middle, three belragged looking creatures, a bug bear, a familiar looking sailor whose face was swollen akin to a beating and a skinny human with shaggy unkempt hair and threadbare clothes, each with their hands bound in front of them, ankles encased in heavy manacles and chains that jangled off the stone as they walked, if walking is what you could call it, each stride limited by the previous person they were chained to.

Forced to move in unison at a shuffling gait, speed dictated by the lead guardsman who made a great display of cruelly yanking at the attached to the first prisoners wrists. 

"Come on with you!" She barked. 

The unexpected yank caught the first prisoner off guard, causing a chain reaction down the line. Not quite in time with the other, the last prisoner's ankle was harshly yanked forward, midstep, losing their footing and falling heavily onto their knees, tugged prone by their hands. 

Mutterings rippled through the gathered crowd, causing the horse of the final guard to skitter and flinch, its hindquarters rippling as it danced on the spot. It's rider commanded, 

"Get him on his feet! Immediately!"

Cruelly lifted by the human by his armpits, he was dragged the rest of the way, bare feet scraping over the cobblestones towards a wooden dais, on top which sat the town's garish stockades. 

Over the sea of heads, made up of humans, orcs, trolls alike she watched as each prisoner was roughly manhandled, accosted by their arms, forcing them forward. 

The bugbear attempted to struggle, snorting and roaring, only to be kicked behind the knees causing it's legs to buckle. Still it tried to fight the guards as they endeavoured to clamp the stocks over it's neck and wrists, securing it with a heavy duty padlock. 

It was repeated with the other two prisoners, ever under the watchful eye of the rider, who remained at a safe distance, his men unlocking the manacles at the wrist and neck, whilst the ankles remained in the cold metal.

The chains hit the wood with a ominous thud that echoed out over the bristling crowd. 

A scroll was handed to a brightly coloured town cryer, who broke the seal unfurling it. He looked at the scroll and back at the rider who gave a solemn nod. 

From this distance, Blake could make out the knitting of eyebrows as the cryer pulled uncomfortably at his collar and cleared his throat. 

His voice started shaky, 

"It is hereby decreed by the authority of Dame's Point Landing, on charges of Breach of the Peace and Vagrancy, the three prisoners shall be held in the stockades for no less than 48 hours." The cryer looked up from the scroll once more, only for the rider to make a continue movement with his fingers. With huge breath, the cryer spoke, loud and clear "- Anyone caught interfering with said prisoners shall also be deemed as breaking Dame's Point Landing's statute 402 and shall be punished accordingly."

Her stomach dropped like lead.

A member of the crowd raised their arm back to fling a missile, rotten produce splattering on impact. The shaggy head of the bugbear tried not to flinch. Not that they could get anywhere if they tried, the stocks holding them steadfast. 

Either side stood a member of the City Watch and Blake watched with dismay as they did nothing to dissuade the crowd as another volley pelted towards the prisoners. This time the missiles were decidedly harder as the human let out a loud yelp and their left leg buckled underneath them, causing them to choke. 

Blake scanned the crowd, as they laughed at the display. Faces twisted in cruel glee, others thankful that it wasn't them up there.

A City Watchmen jabbed the creature in the buttocks with the end of their polearm. Unable to watch anymore, the thief stepped down from the crate, politely pushing it back under the stall and leaving behind the marketplace and the bitter reminder of her place in the world.

The further she headed away the lighter her mood became as she passed by the goats who seemed like they had not moved an inch since the previous evening, eyes closed, chewing their cud as they basked in the sun. 

Even the horses in the Folly's Meadow seemed to be infected by the sunshine, playfully galloping along the fence if the pasture. 

Little old men, bandy legged from a lifetime of horse riding leaned on the fence watching the ponies display, flicking their tails over their hindquarters, snorting the air as they pranced around each other.

With purpose, she skirted along the edge of Tanners Lane almost glad of her swollen nose so as not to smell the stench of the vats that didn't bear thinking about, spying up ahead her destination. 

_Time to gather provisions for a celebration!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the wait folks..
> 
> Hope you're all doing ok in this crazy situation we find ourselves in. 
> 
> Everyone who is working during this.... YOU ARE ALL DOING A GREAT JOB AND WE APPRECIATE THE RISKS YOU ARE TAKING AND THE TIME AWAY FROM YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS IN ORDER TO MAKE SURE THAT SOCIETY KINDA CONTINUES TO FUNCTION. WITHOUT YOU, WE WOULD BE UP SHITS CREEK. AND YOU ALL BLOODY DESERVE A RAISE. YOU ARE ALL HEROES. 
> 
> Everyone remember to wash you hands, and follow the guidelines set out by your respective governments the best you can. Check in on your loved ones and neighbors who might be the most vulnerable. Most importantly, try to be kind to each other. 
> 
> For those being adversely effected by the quarantine, try to take care of your mental health, reach out to others, even if it means sending a message in my DM's. .  
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Stay Healthy and Stay Safe.  
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Tanners Lane was the name given to the part of town where many businesses of agricultural nature thrived. Once over, on market day, it would be teeming with livestock bought during the sales on their destination towards the meat hooks of the many butchers whose establishments backed on to the wide laneway. Carts would come and go in the early hours of the morning collecting and dropping off deliveries, some clientele preferring their provisions to arrive at their very backdoor. 

On the left, crooked two and three story buildings, ranging from butchers to green grocers and ale houses whose backdoor opened out into high stone walled in yards, some made up of the neighbour's extension wall. On the right, a mixture of lean-to stables, pens and stalls, housing chickens, groutlings, goats chewing their cud and cows kept for milking.

Further down, wooden hand made sluices, siphoned off water from the small river, into the wooden drop down system, where burly armed women would scrub linen, or stir huge steaming vats of boiling water with treated wool, lugging the weighty fleeces onto lines of twine that criss-crossed the large yards, taking advantage of the wind coming out of the West gate.

The distinctive smell always lingered and it was always warm, the fires beneath the huge vats needing to be stocked and kept alight and so there would always be some sort of a small gathering to be found, folks willing to do some odd job in order to take advantage of the heat.

Further along, the sloping sheds of the looms, nimble fingers teased the shuttle under and over the thread at high speed, the rhythmic 'clack clack' sound from the buildings had woven into the very fabric of everyday life. Where as once it had been a constant, comforting rumble, the off beat 'click click', from the handful of looms still in use sounded mournful. The absence of their mates left a gaping hole in the symphony of the city

__

Every part of the animal was used, the hides of cattle swapped or bartered for with the tanners, who would treat them only to be loaded onto carts to be sold to leather craftsmen and artisans in other cities. And today was no exception, foot and cart traffic alike, galvinised by the uncharacteristic sunshine, trundled up and down the cobble stones, a stark comparison to the previous day's weather.

__

Blake hugged the wall to avoid being squashed or jostled, keeping her cloak tight around her and hood firmly clasped in her hand.

__

Coming upon a paint peeling door, she rapped lightly. Beyond it, she could hear a squelching 'thunk' and could taste the metallic tang of blood in the air. Occasionally from other yards she would hear the choked desperate bleating of sheep and squeals from groutlings, the terrified screams of desperate creatures who knew all to well their awaiting fate.

The Cerebani woman tried her best not to be here on culling day if she could help it, the noise never failed to set her sensitive hearing on edge and she could never shake the stench of fear and death that lingered in her clothing, following her home, not that it would be an issue today.

Gently she pushed open the door a fraction, just enough to get a view but not enough where a creature hellbent on making a break for freedom could take advantage. Beyond, she spied the rippling arms of her contact continuing to bring down the sharp meat cleaver, winking in the light on its journey to cleave the carcass on a wooden chopping block into smaller pieces.

She watched as the man rammed the blade tip of the cleaver into the wood, where it stayed standing, before he hefted the legs of lamb on to his broad shoulders, briefly disappearing for a few moments before returning with yet another carcass, dropping it on the block with a loud gelatinous 'thunk'. With the back of his wrist he wiped at the sweat on his brow. As if feeling eyes on him, he turned, face caught in surprise before it gave way to a huge, easy grin at the sight of his would be visitor. 

He could be called handsome, with bright blond fly away hair and his shirtless torso on display, sculptured from years of hard labour, all brought together with a boyish charm. And if she was to believe the rumours, he was not short of female suitors, made up of maids or local girls who jockeyed for position to frequent the store in which he worked.

Right now the visage was ever slightly ruined with the light red smear of blood on his forehead.

He called out in jovial greeting, 

"Blake!" Turning his back, he looked frantically about before finally finding what he was looking for and dunking his hands into a nearby bucket, furiously scrubbing his forearms, "- Be with you in a second."

She observed through hooded eyes, how he patted his pants, turning in a circle like a dog chasing its tail, trying to catch the bloody stained cloth that hung from his belt, making a huge display of drying his dripping hands.

Stifling a giggle at his failure to seem nonchalant, as he went as if to lean his hand casually on the chopping block but missing entirely, she had to admire his swift recovery hiding his mishap with an awkward stretch and toss of his mussy golden hair.

"Hello, Sun." She managed, as he swaggered towards her, with a loose roll to his thrust forward hips, causing her to swallow the burgeoning smirk that threatened to spread across her face and softly roll her eyes at his antics. "- How are you?"

Languidly, he rested one hand on the top corner of the door and the other on the wall, stretching out his long body, much like a cat. He towered over her, the step of the yard adding some height. She came barely to his chest and it afforded her an unfettered view of his chiseled six pack that drew the eye down to the very prominent V of his hips. 

Tail swishing, Blake blushed and she was never more grateful for the shadows created by the hood of her cloak. Licking her lips, she cleared her throat, trying to avoid his gaze and the cheeky knowing smirk that created dimples at the corners of his mouth, his eyes flickering briefly to the movement at the edges of her long cloak.

_Heavens be to the Gods_

The pair gazed at each other for a small moment, the warm silence spreading out to the point of bursting. Playing her tongue over her sharp teeth, she quirked an eyebrow, breaking the spell with words enveloped in a teasing tone, 

"You have a little something." She motioned to his forehead, "- Makes you look like a barbarian." 

His smooth facade dropped, and she let out a soft laugh at the panic stricken face he pulled.

They had come across each other a few years previously when she had caught him attempting to pilfer in Miz Gladowhag's territory with out correct permission. After the initial upset a fast friendship had formed. He claimed to hail from somewhere further North East, having made his way to Dame's Point Landing stowing away on ships. His accent and his carefree manner most certainly coincided with the tall tales he often told of battling sea creatures from the fathoms of the open waters, arms gesticulating, going through the motions of epic sword battles on swaying masts.

They often did not make sense to her, if he was meant to be a stow away such fights would have surely alerted the Captain and the crew to his subterfuge, but she found them entertaining and so chose not to question on the minor details as she had no wish to find proof of falsehoods, though she always suspected it so.

His vanity getting the better of him, he moved back across the yard, removing the meat cleaver and using it as a mirror of sorts, turning it this way and that, until he was seemingly satisfied that Blake's comment hadn't been one of jest. 

Replacing the cleaver, he poured the bucket down the drain, its contents giving off a weak red hue, before throwing her a cheeky wink and once more disappearing out of sight. He returned with a small basket covered over with cloth, offering it out. Her fingers clasping round the handle, he refused to relinquish his hold and the pair played out a gentle, playful tug of war.

Using his added strength, he tugged a little harder almost threatening to pull her off her feet. She yanked back, and she had milliseconds to register the mischievous glint in his blue eyes as he let go causing her to flounder backwards and almost lose her footing. 

He let out a hearty laugh as she rained down half hearted slaps on his forearm, raised in a vain attempt to protect himself. 

She glowered, 

"You're an arsehole!"

"In all fairness, you deserved it!"

Making a conscious decision to take the moral high road, she patted at the ends of her hair, turning her nose up in the pompous way of the the elite. Throwing a dark look towards his smug grin, she carefully peeled back the corner of the cloth and began to inspect the contents of the wicker basket. 

Inside lay a sizable amount of bloodpudding stubs that were turning white with age, bones that still carried gristle, brindles of fat and a ceramic jar of jellied pottage going to green. 

"Sun.." She breathed in awe, "-This... this is far too much!" 

Looking like a boy far younger than his years, he bashfully mumbled, 

"It's nothing.... Was only going to waste anyways..." He knuckled a lock of hair out of his face, "- Sure, you'll make better use of it..."

She darted forward, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, 

"Thankyou... For everything."

Catching him off guard, he garbled his words, his cheeks beginning to turn a shade of scarlet, 

"Think,the,man.. The Boss, on is catching."

Blake's face broke into a huge smile, 

"What, was that?"

He tried to pass of what he thought was a surly grimace, deepening his voice in a bid to sound gruff,

"Might be all we can we get for a while...The bossman is starting to catch on... He's wanting the ends to make piecemeal out of."

"No, no.. thank you.. You do far too much as it is. I really appreciate it. If there is anyway I can repay you, don't hesitate to tell me."

"Well..." He rolled out the word, "-There is one thing?"

She looked up, expectantly from tucking the cloth back in it's place, 

"Yeah?"

"Go on a walk with me?"

"Now?" She asked in surprise.

"Yeah, why not?." He shifted from one foot to the other, his normal lilt returning as he sounded almost hopeful, "- Now's a good time as any... I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

Blake cast a glance up and down the street. 

_What harm could it do? It wasn't as if she was in any rush._

She nodded, 

"Ok... To the end of the laneway!" Grinning from ear to ear, his excitement almost infectious. Grabbing the rope handle of the empty bucket, stepped out on to the street. Blake began to move, "- Will you not get in trouble for leaving work?"

"Nah, Rulen don't care as long as I have it done on time. Besides," He held up the bucket, "- I'm getting water!"

"But you have a pump in the yard?"

"Do I?....." Flashing an impish smirk, he jimmied the pin out of the water pump's handle and stuck it in his pocket, "-Look broken to me!"

Just as the sun was beginning to climb towards its apex, bathing the cobblestones in a warm glow, Sun offered out his arm, encouraging Blake to take it. Looping one arm through the basket handle, she looped her other through the crook of his elbow, allowing her hand to rest lightly on his strong forearm. 

To the outside observer, the pair might be mistaken for lovers as they meandered down the laneway, seemingly in a world of their own, strange bedfellows, bright golden exuberance beside shrouded shadows.

Beside her, Sun seemed to grow, walking taller somehow, his chest out, nodding in greeting to people they passed. It did not go unnoticed how some eyes lingered hungrily, male and female, drinking in the view of this walking sculpture, and how he did nothing to discourage it.

Up ahead, three girls carrying baskets laden with linen began to have a hushed conversation punctuated by titters and giggles as Sun called out, 

"Ladies!"

Blake noticed how one girl nudged the other with her shoulder and the recipient blushed a deep red, trying to hide her face from view. She wondered how he could revel in the attention, her much preferring vantage points far from prying eyes and she was reminded of another blonde who moved with such confidence and ease.

"It would seem that you have quite the , _ahem_, following!"

Tossing his head and giving her a salacious wink, he announced, 

"They've got nothing on you!"

Blake burst out in gales of laughter, 

"That has to be the most caddish line I've ever heard!" She lightly teased.. "- Does it work for you often?

He shrugged in that carefree way of his, replying cavalierly, 

"Usually!"

"You're an idiot."

"Whaaat?.... I speak only the truth!"

Maybe it was the seldom seen sunlight, or maybe it was his light hearted attitude, she spun out in front of him holding onto his hand and walking backwards, continuing to playfully tease, 

"Ohhhh, truth seer, tell me what your divine eyes see!"

Instantly he became serious, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, the hold on her had tightening, 

"I see you a great calamity befalling you in your future!"

Blake blinked rapidly, taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor, only for it to disappear as quickly as it had arrived. He pulled her close, sweeping her out of the path of an oncoming horse and cart, lightly pressing her against the wall in a bid to shield her,

"See!"

She breathed in faux coquettishness, 

"My hero!"

She hadn't thought it possible but she was sure that she witnessed his broad, naked chest grow in size,

"Glad to be of service!"

Wriggling out from under his arm and darting away, Blake countered, 

"Your bravery is appreciated in this most trying of times."

Trotting to catch up, he lightly caught her arm, gone was the easy going grin, replaced with crinkled eyebrows, 

"Judging by your face, it looks like you might need one." Blake spun in a circle to face him, the pair stationary in the middle of the road. He paused, " Look, I don't mean to pry, but... what happened?"

If Blake could sniff, she would and she had almost forgotten about her unfortunate, albeit temporary, appearance,

"It's none of your business!" She curtly replied, "- And for your information I am more than capable of taking care of myself!"

She spun on her heel and began to take determined strides towards the washing sluices and loom sheds. 

"Blake! Come on, don't be like that!"

Once again he scurried to catch up, matching her stride for stride. Not to shaken from his current train of thought, he continued, 

"All I'm saying is... You can't keep living like this. It's too dangerous! The streets are getting leaner...Look around, " He waved his arm at the city in general for emphasis, "- Things are pretty bad and they are only gonna get worse come the winter!"

His words hit a little too close to the bone, giving her dark fears validity in the brightness of the late summer's day. Under the hood, her ears flattened against her head and her tail bristled as she bit back,

"Oh really? I hadn't fucking noticed!" 

Dropping the bucket and resting both of his hands lightly on her shoulder, he ducked his head to peer into the shadows of her hood, his tone full of concern,

"Every time I hear of the arrests, I run to the stocks, terrified I'm gonna find you there... or even worse, _not at all_!" She swallowed under his intense gaze, averting her eyes when the weight of it became too much to bear. Blake crossed her arms over her chest half in protection from the nightmare scenario he had conjured and half an attempt to remain defiant. "- I'm not trying to tell you want to do...."

"Well, it most certainly sounds like you are!"

His shoulders visibly sagged, 

"I don't understand why you don't get a steady?.... A girl with your looks would rake it in behind a counter." .

"And that's the problem, Sun!" She yelled, causing birds to alight from their roost and the odd washer woman to glance their way. Lowering her voice to a hiss, she continued, " - You ,'don't' understand! ....I can't just walk about like I own the place!"

"Why not? ... It seems to me if you just owned what you are then you could make a packet!"

Her voice became shrill, recoiling from his words,

"Are you serious?.... I can't believe I'm hearing this from you?.... You, of all people?"

Irritated, he began circle her, hands gesticulating, 

"If so dangerous, why don't you just leave?"

_"I can't!"_

He stopped mid-stride, exasperation creeping into his voice,

"Blake... How many times have I told you, _they are not your responsibility._"

Drawing back her lips into a snarl that showed off her fangs, she ignored the pain that bloomed over her nose as it crinkled, venomously spitting, 

"Think you've forgotten that not long ago you were hustling Three Dragon Ante on street corners and was one of 'those' people!"

The bucket ignored, Sun rubbed both his hands through his hair, a look of disbelief on his face, and if Blake was not so annoyed, she would almost feel guilty. Suddenly he gripped her by the upper arms firmly but not enough as to hurt, each word a blow, like a blacksmith's hammer to a nail, 

"It's because I remember, I'm saying this.... What do you think is gonna happen, eh? .... The war isn't gonna stop anytime soon. If anything, they gonna dig in, and what little harvest there is, its gonna go up North for more coin! And then what you gonna do, eh? " He almost shook her, "- You need get your feet under someone's table before it happens or your gonna starve or _worse_, end up on the gallows!.... You need to start looking out for number 1!"

She tried to shrink from him and as if sensing her discomfort he let go. A loud defeated sigh the only sound between them. 

Swallowing tears of frustration that threatened to overspill, she uttered, 

"I need to go."

He reached towards her, causing her to flinch, 

"Blake," He began, softly, "- I'm sorry... It's just...." He trailed off, looking out over the livestock sheds and the women working in the sluices, in contemplation before parting, "- Look, I have little coin put aside.... and I'm plannin on takin the last ship South before winter sets in.... Come with me? We can work for our passage, save what we have..." He ducked his head to catch her eye, "- Just tell me you'll think about, ok?"

She didn't know if it was the medicine wearing off, or the tense conversation as her head began thump, making it difficult to concentrate.

_ How had their sweet morning together, devolved into this?_

Instead of replying, she gave a curt nod. 

"Blake....:" He tenderly touched her cheek, "- We could have a good life together, if you could just give us a chance?"

The look of hope on his face was too much.

Overwhelmed, she turned and fled.


	6. Chapter 6

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_Dear reader, often in this life you may find yourself on the receiving end of cultural idioms and old sayings that have been handed down as nuggets of wisdom. Such as "A lie can get round the world before truth has even pulled it's boots on" or in our trusty protagonist's case, 'The truth hurts.' and one might even go so far as to say that to ignore them was at your own peril. However, in this particular instance, given our trusty protagonist's predicament she could not be held wholly responsible for her foul mood, which only soured further as she dwelt upon Sun's candid words as she finished up all her errands and headed towards the Gnomish settlement in the Understreet._

Haunting, almost eerie sounds echoed through the sewers and various tunnels of the Understreet, working like a homing beacon to her destination. Finger's grasped sodden rope ladders, all the while accompanied by a muttering of curses under her breath. 

_Who does he think he is? Blind siding her? It wasn't as if she had put no thought to such things, but to be so brazen.... So ..... Rude!_

Using her clawed feet on the slimy wall and hands on a thick cord, she jimmied her way up over the lip of a tunnel's entryway, doing her best to avoid the fetid drip and backsplash of the water that spilled out of the horseshoe gutter to the pools below. With keen eyesight, she pressed on sticking to the walkway. Suddenly, she was yanked back hard by the throat nearly choking her in the process, the edge of cloak having caught on something. In a fit of temper, she yanked and was dismayed to hear the tell tale sound of tearing. 

_FUUUCK!!_

Tucking it up close, her tail finally having freedom to whip back and forth in a hot frenzy, she scowled at the frayed ends and began to stomp down the tunnel, the _slap slap_ of the soles of her sandles on the slick surface sounding like a punishment delivered to the very ground itself. Feeling a change in the air from cold to warm, she turned this way and that, eventually rounding a corner, soft light spilling from the end, accompanied by the ghoulish howling changing to singing and music.

No different from the previous day, the Gnomish settlement was bustling. But where as the day before the atmosphere was one of urgency and business, today it was replaced by one of celebration.

Burst awash with colour, homemade bunting hung from the windows of the houses that lined the walls. Gnomes called out to each other in gnomish, some rather more ruddy cheeked than expected at noon. A skiff race seemed about to commence, excited boys and girls making changes to their much loved makeshift boats. One rather rotund gnome worked a grill, surrounded by other flat cap wearing male Gnomes who watched on with solemn expressions and nods of approval, as the grill worker held up piece of seared meat for them to inspect.

Carefully, she picked her way through the throng of tiny people, trying to be as vigilant as possible as to the placement of her feet. A bunch of rowdy children playing chase bore down on her. One hopped smartly onto her foot and scrambled up her leg, only to take a flying leap off her hip, swing off one of the conveyor baskets and continue on to a swaying gangplank high up in the eaves. 

They pulled a rude gesture at their would be pursuers before ducking through the door of one of the numerous houses.  
Blake could hear a chorus of complaints from the other children and she was certain she heard a gnomish swear word or two. From her left, a greeting, in broken Regular, 

"You alright there, Blake?... Come to see Enizu, I'll bet?"

A wide smiling, gnomish women leaned out of a window surrounded by tiny flower boxes. Like her grandson, Vren, she had red hair but it was giving way to grey in places.

In a bid to shake her foul mood, Blake forced a smile, patting the basket, 

"Just a lil something to wet the babe's heads, Jorhana...Welcome them into the world."  
.  
"Ah sure, lassie.... Go on... He's down with the gaffers an the missus is at home."

On the far right hand side gangplank, Blake spied a small queue that snaked a long the gangplank, up to the very front door of Enizu and his wife, 

"Think I'll leave a visit until it settles."

Jorhana waved in understanding.

At the far end of the settlement was a wide open space, specifically for giant visitors, not that the small yet thriving community had them often, but as with any civic gathering being able to accommodate and provide for the needs of those who may be other was a feather in their cap and a source of great pride. 

It would not be said that the Gnomish community were not hospitable to those whose company they didn't mind, anyone else, it was more or less a case of being led on a merry dance through the sewer system, and Blake was one of the lucky few on that list and if the Cerebani woman was a gambler she would bet her hide, Miss Gladowhag would be practically revered.

Very carefully she took the offered spot, making sure that no little children could possibly be pancaked by her backside. Hardy and resilient, Gnomish children had a way of simply popping back into shape but she had no wish to be be on the receiving end of a roasting she would never live down if she just so happened to accidentally squash one. Furling out the torn ends of her cloak behind her buttocks, she allowed her tail some rare freedom, paying no mind to the curious children who patted or tried to catch it, under the watchful eye of a much older Gnomish girl.

The wicker basket garnered much attention, exploratory fingers, and wide eyes shining with curiosity. She made a great display of removing a large brown glass bottle of beer and a rather thick stub of blood pudding, and if the little gasps were anything to go by, she had done quite well.

"Here, " She offered out the stub, "- Who would like to take this to who ever is in charge of the grub?"

Faces full of glee, the gnomish children, clamoured around with a tree of arms waving and a chorus of voices, 

"Me!"

"Me!"

Couple of older children hefted the weight and Blake let out a laugh at a little girl who clasped the string at the end, swaying a few inches off the ground as the others began carrying it away. She paid no mind to the others who had taken to climbing up her cloak or hiding underneath it, inquisitive and adventurous. Pulling down her hood and scarf, her ears sprang up. Gently rubbing some feeling back into the base, the action causing the earrings to tinkle off each other, she let out a satisfied sigh. 

Though she knew the hood and scarf was a precautionary necessity, it didn't mean that she wholly enjoyed having to cover her ears 24/7. They flickered and swiveled, picking out the noises of the festivities, the _bick-bock_ of tins, repurposed into drums, high pitched whistle of reed pipes playing, mingled in with the twang of a horsetail harp.

She was rather impressed at the ingenuity when she spied a young gnome, hair spiked up and torn trousers, sat on a spool tread on a raised dais, behind a contraption made of different bottle caps, buttons, and what she thought was a ring covered in treated rats skin. Skinny little arms raised, he twiddled two bones in either hand, striking a pose like a Priest about to give a sermon, much to the delight of a few female gnomes who ooo'd and arrr'd. A girl wearing bright tartan fashioned into a skirt and sleeveless top, joined him, holding up a make shift guitar fashioned out of a bottle cap, silver horsehair strings that caught in the light. 

The pair looked at each other, the boy tapping out a beat, one, two, three in Gnomish. 

_Bglaaaarrrgh!_

Tiny heads whipping back and forth, the pair began to play, the guitarist screaming at the top of her lungs whilst the boy beat a quick tempo on his drum kit. Growing and swelling with the acoustics of the tunnel, the sound filled the space. The small gathering burst into life, jumping, screaming, swinging at each other. Cheers of encouragement came from the houses as faces peered out the doors and hung out of the windows. 

Eager Gnomes grabbed polearms, or what looked like flat pieces of wood, others dived onto the makeshift skiffs, all eyes looking back beyond the tunnel. Up to the left of Blake, a howling gurgle escaped the dark sewer, the gnomes on her shoulders bouncing with excitement. One yelled to be heard over the noise, 

"Move your feet unless ye wanna get wet!"

The tension was palpable.

Murky water began to trickle into the horseshoe basin of the sewer. Men and women swiftly worked rope pulleys, hiking up baskets of produce and children alike. Others fussing over older ones, tying bits of bottle corks to their waists.

Sound of a loud horn, 

_Whooooohaaaaaa_

Above the tunnel entrance on a scaffold, two gnomes jumped off, swinging on ropes that unfurled a green cloth and pulled up a heavy duty net. Blake only just managed to pull her knees under her chin and save the basket before water, poured out of the left hand entrance, in an unrelenting torrent into the horseshoe.

Makeshift boats were carried off on the deluge, followed by those on the flat boards who expertly surfed the monstrous waves. After the main overflow subsided, gnomes canonballed into the flooded river, screaming and laughing.

A rather wet Vren, face beaming, climbed on to the lip closest to Blake, 

"Oi, Catspaw.... Fancy a dip?"

She had no wish to be rude, but where exactly the deluge had come from didn't dare thinking about, Opening the beer bottle, she chuckled, 

"I think I'll give it a miss today. If that's ok?"

The red head gnome shrugged, replying genially,

"Suit yourself. .. I'll tell Da you're here!"

Using his hands to pull himself up, he swan dived backwards, disappearing under the water.

Rummaging around in the basket, she retrieved the smallest blood pudding stub, peeling off the white skin before she began to nibble on it. She watched as the grilling Gnomes used a glass knife to slice the much larger stub into manageable pieces, hefting it onto the grill. It took two of them to turn it over, whilst others carved up the rat steaks and proceeded to hand it out. 

Sailors and surfers began to filter back in, drying themselves with springy moss after seeing to their boats and boards. 

Tapping her claw off the glass of the beer bottle, she gave it a shake once she had their attention and a small line began to form. Delicately, she took to pouring it out into the small receptacles they offered out. Nods of thanks and appreciation before they scuttled off with their beverage.

Vren returned, decidedly dryer, his damp hair puffed up mingled in with bits of moss, 

"Da seys he'd like to join ye, if ye don't mind coming and gettin him, on account he can't move much?"

Blake obliged, methodically slipping off her boots and rolling up her trousers past the knee. 

Gingerly, she dipped in a toe and was taken by surprise at how warm it was. In the shallows, parents had taken to dunking scraps of cloth, using them to wipe at grimy children, others using the pulley system to gather buckets, hauling them up to the houses situated at the top, helpful hands running sure of foot along the swaying gangplanks, disappearing into house. She saw one old man being carefully lifted into a woven basket, then slowly lowered into the water to be surrounded by others who began to help him bathe.

She admired how the whole community worked like a well oiled machine. 

A shout got her attention, a few gnomes she recognized waving her over to the front of Enizu's home, their friend on a makeshift sling of cloth. Careful so as not to cause any unnecessary waves that might just wash away a small child, she waded through the water, an assortment of gnomes clinging to her in places as she moved. Holding out her cupped hands for her small friend, the brunette waited patiently until he was situated 

Once they were sure he was safe, they doffed their assortment of hats or touched balding locks of hair, taking off to do what ever it is Gnomes do.

Moving back to her seat, the Cerebani women continued so soak her feet, and placed Enizu on a ledge, wrapping the cloth sling around him, being extra careful of his splinted leg, stuck out stiff in front of him.

Dark rings under his eyes, a grey pallor to his skin and a days worth of stubble gave him an exhausted appearance.

Filling a small thimble full of beer, she offered it to the new father. In his small hands it looked huge. She passed no judgement as he upended it in one continuous gulp and she was only too happy to oblige a refill. He let out a loud burp that almost echoed.

Daring gnomish children took to climbing up her legs, using them as a slide or a diving board.

Taking a long hard slug of the beer, the pair watched their antics. Enizu wiped at a dribble of beer with the back of his hand, sounding almost melancholy, 

"To be that carefree, eh?"

Blake took another slug of the sweet and surprisingly strong ale, nodding in agreement. Tail curling at the end, she tried not to consider her own childhood, instead she flashed a wane smile, 

_Glad they can have one._

Breaking off a piece of blood pudding, she gave it to Enizu watching how he alternated between chewing it and washing it down with ale.

"So, the babes... All their fingers and toes?" She asked, conversationally, in a bid to lift the Gnome's spirits, "- Must be proud?"

Rather than beaming with happiness, Enizu buried his head in his hands, muffling a distraught wail. 

_Was it something she said? Had his children been born without limbs? What if they were missing eyes?_

She couldn't imagine a blind child being able to navigate the constant death traps of Gnomish existence very successfully. Just at a casual glance she could spot five within inches of her face!

Enizu continued to pull at his hair, rubbing his hands down his face that only served to reveal horrifyingly red eyes and elongate his features into some garish caricature of a hag. The look in his eyes was that of a man who had glimpsed into the abyss and on their return wanted to take vestments fairly sharpish, which Deity really didn't matter, as long as they offered sanctuary and salvation.

"Blake!" He wailed, "-what am I gonnae do?... It was ard enough wi four mouths ta feed, but three more bairns!!.... Tha Missis cannae do anythin on account of the wee ones....and Vren.." A hint of pride returning, "- He's a good ole lad but he's still just that, a wee laddie.. He shouldnae have to be the man of the house , not at his age."

Blake filled up the desperate Gnome's thimble, listening in support. Holding the bottle up to the light, she was pleased to find it just under half full then she guzzled it back, throat bobbing until it was empty. Grabbing the second bottle, she gripped the cork with her teeth, ignoring the squeaks until it gave way with a hollow plop. Beside her, the Gnome continued, 

"Healer seys I'll be out for longer, maybe into the middle o winter, an its gonnae be a bad un." He stared morosely into the depths of his thimble, letting out a bit of a miserable sniff, "- I donno how we gonnae make it through?"

_You and me both!_

"I darnt tell the Missus and she donnae complain, but she knows....." He cast a glance in the direction of his home, "-An a wife alas has a way 'o' know in. No point tryna hide didily squat from tae Missus, alaws leads tae more trouble than it worth."

Long clawed fingers began to peel at the label on the bottle, attempting to make neat strips yet failing miserably.

_A hot meal a day and all the scraps you can carry!_

"Enizu," She offered softly, "-If I bring more odds and ends, you could make it into cutlets to barter with?"

Small hands, pulled the makeshift sling tighter around himself, his tone slightly parental,

"Lassie, not tae sound unappreciative, but I know pickins be slim and don't think we aint noticed you're not carryin the same weight. Missus was only sayin tae other day, you're lookin a bit haggered."

_Maybe not such a bad offer all things considering?_

With one light finger, she patted Enizu on the shoulder, 

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine and I wouldn't offer to help if I didn't think I could." Enizu gave a her small smile, holding up his thimble half full of ale. Lightly she tinged the lip of the bottle off it. She could feel him watching her, "- What?"

"Gaffer is talkin about closin up shop down ere an movin us closer to the washhouse."

"Well, if that happens, let me know and I'll help you move."

Shifting in his seat, he attempted to scratch his toes poking out of the splint, 

"Aint, what I'm gettin at... We aint had tae move in nearly three summers... The bones been cast an they don't lie. Ye ken my meanin?"

Blake studied him. Under the white knuckled panic of the uncertainty of his families future, there was something else lurking.

"I hear you."

Shivering in the sudden cold blast of wind from the awning of the tunnel, the thief pulled her feet out of the cooling waters, surprised to find the gnomish crowds had dissipated somewhat and the light in the tunnel to have taken on a dark greenish hue. Minuscule flickers of candle light began to appear in the windows of the houses as parents called their charges indoors.

"Da!" Vren called, from beside the brunette's legs, "Ye still up there?... Ma fells asleep."

Finishing off his thimble, Enizu breathed in huge lungs of air and squared his shoulders, a far call from the desperate gnome he had been, 

"Vren, my boy!" He boomed, "- Be with home in a jiffy."

She made swift work of easing the gnome back into the comfort of his own home, trying extra careful not to disturb the exhausted mother and her three tiny newborns, shocks of bright green hair peeking out in tufts from their swaddling clothes. 

Tying her boots tight, she collected her things, and waved goodbye to those few still out and about. 

Traversing the well known path, she continued to sip on the sweet ale, giggling at the warm fuzzy feeling and how she took a wrong turn and over shot at least one entrance.

_Maybe there was some truth in Enizu's words and maaaaybeee to Sun's as well._

It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed or was deliberately turning a blind eye. Stomach whining in sympathy, she attempted to ignore it. 

_Maybe she could scope out some back alley work, was a little more dangerous but paid well._

Changing her direction, she read the literal writing on walls, squeezing through the lose railings of sluice gate and further into the darkness.

x  
x

Coming upon a familiar heavy duty metal door, she finished the bottle, leaving it neatly on a ledge where it could be easily found, sans cork, and began scratching her claws on the surface. 

Beyond, a muffled bunch of curses reached her twitching ears, just over the sound of bolts screeching in protest. Hinges screaming, the door opened a slither and an inquiring growl, 

"Whose there?"

"Wallace! Old buddy, open up!"

Instantly the growl was gone, becoming friendly, 

"Allo, Blake!"

Shimmying her way through the small gap afforded her, she stepped into a pale blue light, feeling her way up the uneven steps and out into a cool room full of wooden kegs and other things under heavy canvas she made sure not to stare at too hard, waving at a few shady looking folks smoking pipes who paid her no mind, far too taken with the game of cards on a make shift table. Weaving her way through, she came up through a hatch into a narrow abandoned kitchen area.

A heavily scarred, bare armed doorman of sorts, in black studded leather breast plate greeted her at the door brandishing a mean looking cudgel, only relaxing once he realized who it was.

"Nightshade," He rumbled, "- How many times ave you been told to call out if your coming up?" He replaced the garish weapon to its usual place hanging off a nail, "- One of these days your gonna get such a clattering an whose gonna explain it to Miz Gladowhag?"

"Ah. come on. If I was the City Watch, I'd make more of a ruckas than that now, wouldn't I?"

Lightly patting his hairy arm, she squeezed past and out through behind the bar. 

The barman, or rather, the bardwarf was excavating an ear with a fingernail, wiggling it back and forth making a weird _bowp bowp_ sound. Upon seeing her, they hopped down off the stool on to a raised walk way behind the reinforced bar.

"Whacha having, twinkle toes?"

The huge bristly beard that came down to their waist made it anyone's guess as to the bardwarf's gender. Some of the more unruly and impolite clientele had put a bet on finding out via attempting to drive them to distraction, having some asinine notion that female dwarves were more inclined to be genteel. Needless to say, there were rather a few thieves, ruffians and brigands missing a few fingers, a kneecap or two and in one unfortunate case, a left testicle, which now sat in a jar of vinegar on a shelf in the bar as a staunch deterrent to anyone else who might be considering pushing the issue further.

"Is there anything left on my tab?"

The bardwarf grinned through their thick mustache and beard, showing a few missing teeth, 

"Plenty, girl!"

Blake returned the grin, 

"I'll leave myself in your capable hands!"

_Dear reader, every city in the world has a bar like this. You know the type? The place that even the locals only talk about in whispers. The sort of establishment that when you walk in conversation ceases, you are the focus of many eyes. If you're brave you'll politely nod, take a seat at the bar and very very politely ask for a beverage , even better if you offer a round, eventually leaving with decidedly lighter pockets and a story to tell. And if you're stupid....... Weeeeell, you'll end up as nothing more than a dark brown stain on the pavement and a regular shall proudly be showing off a new jacket the next morning. And it shouldn't come as a surprise, that our trusty protagonist frequented one of 'those' bars._

Pulling her hood up round her ears, Blake took a stool at the bar, casting her gaze into the gloom of the occupied booths. She could make out darker shapes in the depths, the occasional wink of sharp metal or even sharper grins. Wheeling and dealing one dare not allow their glance to linger. To peer too long or hard at the people huddled round the table in hushed conversation could very well cost you your thumbs.

The hair on the back of Blake's neck stood on end and she kept her eyes forward, watching the flickering of shadows play out on the reflective metal surface of the trolls steins in a gleaming row behind the bar. 

Sliding a mug along the bars surface, the bardwarf gave the thief a proud look.

"There, try that and tell me what you think?" 

Fingers curling round the handle, eyes remaining fixed on the figure in a dark cloak who was watching her intently, the Cerebani slowly moved her other hand, fingertips feeling out the hilt of her blade,

"What's in it?" Blake swished the mug, "- Is that fruit?"

"Just try it!" Picking up a mug, the bar dwarf began to polish it with a cloth, lowering their voice conspiratorially, "- Expectin any bother?" 

"No!" 

The dwarf continued to pretend to be busy, holding the mug up to the weak light, inspecting it, 

"Well, someone seems mighty intent on you." 

"I noticed." Hunching up her shoulders and moving her feet for balance and the potential ambush, Blake asked, "- Can you do me a solid?" 

Noncommittally, the dwarf shrugged, 

"Depends what it is?" 

"If they start coming over, can you put the mug away?" 

Sucking their handful of teeth, the dwarf gave a minuscule nod as they continued to polish.

Blake took a small sip of the drink. Smacking her lips, her mouth was awash with aroma of berries hiding the sting of alcohol . Cautiously, she took another under the expectant gaze of the dwarf. Little pieces of fruit bobbed in the white froth. Feeling brave, she took a larger sip. The sting caught in the back of her throat causing her to cough and the dwarf to laugh.

"It's something, ain't it?"

Eyes watering, the brunette nodded, managing, 

"It's tasty!"

Smoothly, the dwarf slid the mug in their hands out of view. Catching the movement, Blake whipped round, swiftly putting her previously occupied stool between her and the would be assailant, claws extended as if reaching for their throat.

The hooded assailant seemed to flicker with a strange light blue hue, smartly catching the thief's wrist out of midair, encasing it in warm soft leather clad fingers and a surprisingly strong grip. It happened so fast, it had to have been a trick. A chipper, cheerful voice, laced in the accent of the commoners from the kingdom's Capital, 

"Wotcha!" A far too bright smile showing off white teeth, "- No need for that! I just wanted to talk."

The assailant pulled down their hood to reveal a pixiesh face, a small upturned noise covered in a smattering of freckles under fly away spiky brown hair. She had a lithe frame and a few inches on Blake.

After a long suspicious glare, Blake very slowly retracted her claws,

"It's rude to sneak up on people. I've known folks who've been gutted for less!"

"Now, now! Was just having a lark!" She let go of Blake's wrist, and hopped up on to a nearby stool, making a huge display of getting comfortable, wiggling her ass. With a leather gloved hand, she patted the seat of Blake's now empty stool. "- No harm, no foul, eh?"

Warily, the Cerebani slid into her seat, shuffling it over the floor to create a bit of distance. The other patron didn't seem to care or mind, instead she leaned over the bar,

"Barkeep, I'll have wot she's havin!"

The bardwarf threw Blake a shrug, commencing making the beverage.

Pulling her glove off with her teeth, the new patron held out a thin slender hand with long tapered fingers and well looked after rounded nails,

"You can call me Silverward."

Blake ignored it, instead preferring to growl,

"Nightshade!"

Spinning on the bar-stool to lean backwards against the bar, Silverward let out a light and breezy,

"Cor.... That's more like an assassins name..." Waving her finger tips like a mage performing an incantation, "- All dark and mysterious, lioke!"

The growl in Blake's throat traveled to her chest, tail swishing angrily and ears flattening,

"What do you think you're playing at, saying something like that?" Tail whipping back and forth, she leaned in close to Silverward's tiny ear, making sure to show her fangs, "- If I was you, I'd watch that tongue of yours if you mean to keep it in your head! "

Blake was taken aback by the wide, teasing carefree grin she received. It was if this blow-in had no survival instincts to speak of,

"Blimey.... You're so serious... All. The. Time.... Do you ever, ya know," She made a motion with her hands, "- Unbunch your bloomers?" The rumble in Blake's chest became a yowl, and yet Silverward continued as if she was merely passing comment on the weather, "- Must chafe something fierce!" 

A frothing mug of fruity cider was diplomatically slid between the pair. Sliverward beamed, placing a silver on the counter,

"Perf!" The newcomer took a drink, adding to their conversation without missing a beat, "- You and an elf I know would get on like an house on fire.. Think she's got a bit of a thing for me, mind you, but who doesn't?"

Blake's eye twitched, 

_What an insufferable braggart!_

The feeling of familiarity creeping up her spine as Silverward prattled on about an elf and a seasoned knight had been tracking her all over the continent, and how she, Silverward, had outsmarted them every step of the way.

Studying the chipper woman's profile, Blake squinted. Maybe in this light, if you squinted really hard and was to try paint it from memory you might get the artists rendition. She was surprisingly prettier than the Wanted poster caricature. It was if a lantern went off in the Cerebani woman's head,

"I know who you are!"

"So you _have_ heard of me," Silverward swelled with pride, "- Nice to know my infamy is spread far and wide over the land."

"I don't know about infamy, but I do know exactly how much you're _worth_!"

The smile remained on Silverward's face but the mirth in her brown eyes was replaced with a steely glint, mug hovering a few inches from her lips,

"Is that so?... And I know exactly _what_ you are!" 

Blake returned the stare.

After an eye watering long time, Silverward blinked and the brunette murmured,

"Don't worry... I'm not in the habit of doing the Red Cloaks job for them."

Silverward visibly relaxed,

"An I don't believe anyone should live in shackles.... Barkeep, another!"

Chugging her drink, a loud burp escaped, the sort that comically flaps your lips, followed by a downright girly giggle. "Here, let me get you one!" 

"No... It's ok... I have one."

"No, no, I insist!... We got off on the wrong foot!" Waving the mug, she added, "- An one for my new friend, here!"

Raised eyebrows, the bardwarf didnt move. Silverward made a display of patting her sides and pockets, and still neither the dwarf or Cerebani moved. They had seen this ploy and all its other potential offshoots many times before.

_You didn't get far in their circles if you were 'that' gullible._

Eventually, Silverward fished out a pouch from the depths of her shirt, placing a gold on the bar with great reverence,

"Keep them coming until its sold!"

The bardwarf bit down on the coin,, testing it and Silverward eyes grew big and shiny, feigning hurt,

"I am wounded, Barkeep..."

Strolling down the walkway, the dwarf replied,,

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure.. Cut to the very core I'll bet?"

Silverward, split open the top of her shirt, baring her breastbone and pale white skin,

"Right here!"

The bardwarf flicked at her with a damp cloth. It expertly made a snap, the end connecting with skin, catching Silverward right in the chest, who let out a yelp.

A few chuckles drifted from the depths of the shadowed booths.

Replacing the coin purse back in her bosom, Silverward hastily retied the top of her shirt, whinging about the red mark. Blake smirked,

"Serves you right."

"Hey.. I bought you a drink.." Silverward groused, "-Think you'd be on my side?"

"You thought wrong."

"Can't inspire loyalty, these days."

"I'm plenty loyal!"  
x  
x  
x

As the evening progressed, so did the banter back and forth, from sharp wit to out right insults and Blake found Silverward's jovial view of the world infectious. The drinks continued to flow. At one point Silverward attempted to draw her into a game of Three Penny Up Right, to which she smartly declined but was more than happy to watch her cajole some other punters who were not as quick on the uptake.

It ended in what could only be politely referred to as a ruckas or a fracus. All in all, fists flew, inquires as to parentage were exchanged and mothers disrespected in general, the bardwarf's throwing axe was currently embedded 6 zhali's into the stone wall where it still vibrated, and various other sharp implements did their job of relieving people of worrying where their next meal was coming from and the two rather inebriated women the wrong side of the heavily barricaded door far off the beaten path of the Narrows of Falsham.

There came a loud thump on the door behind the pair causing to flinch. 

"Don't think we should be here whenever this door opens!"

"Lead the way, oh trusted guide!"

Linking up, they weaved down the narrow twisting alley way, a little unsteady on thier feet, breaking into high pitched squeals of laughter, when Silverward tripped over something in the dark and Blake clambered up onto a barrel.

"Nightshade, where you going?"

"Home!"

"Awww, come on! Night is still young."

"We nearly got killed! " Blake admonished, "- And I have things I need to do."

"Don't be such a party pooper! Send a message on the thieves speak or urchin runes, bound to be someone out. 

Cupping her hands round her mouth, Silverward called out a number of owl hoots followed by a piercing whistle. 

Everything was silent for a heavy moment, Blake watching this weird stranger, who seemed so at ease in one of the most dangerous parts of the city.

Stretching out the night remained empty, save only for a lonely barking dog and the fizzle of anticipation. Ears twitching, she thought she heard a roofing tile tinkle, grabbing Silverward by the back of her garments and pressing her protectively against the wall, shrouded in the darkest of shadows. 

"Whaaay, hey..." Silverward giggled," - Dark horse!"

Clamping a firm hand over Silverward's mouth, Blake raised a finger to her lips, silently shhing her companion and pointing up at the roof. 

Another tinkle of slate moving on slate.

This close, the Cerebani could see brown eyes, blown wide looking up at the roof . A strong and firm thigh pressed between her legs. The cheeky rogue kicked her palm. Releasing her mouth, Blake wiped it on Silverward's shoulder. She could feel hot breath on her straining ears, sending goosebumps down her back in a luxurious shudder. 

_Now was not the time._

Quietly, she deliberately mumbled, 

"How fast are you?" 

"I can be as fast as you like, " The strong thigh continued to apply pressure, "-But I prefer to take my time."

Blake rolled her eyes so hard, she thought they might actually roll out of her head.

_Even in a situation like this, she was willing to make jokes._

"That's not what I meant. And you know it!"

Another wide, easy grin,

"Ain't nothing down here that can catch me!"

Two things happened in quick succession, tiles fell off the roof directly above their heads, smashing to pieces in the dirt and the next.

Everything rippled.

She was here with Silverward, or rather in an inky blackness. Like a drip in a basin of water, they were the epicenter of concentric circles of rippling bright, electric blue. Unfurling like a folded sheet, out to the furthest reaches of vision, maybe past beyond the horizon.

It was cold. So cold. Colder than she imagined the Capstones in the far West Reaches. So cold the minuscule droplets of air she exhaled froze instantly.

She witnessed the splintered tiles reform and begin traveling back up their previous trajectory, like a fish swimming upstream. 

All sound seemed to be sucked out of the space the pair occupied before it rushed back in an inaudible pop that gave way to a deafening BOOM accompanied by a burst of colour. She all at once felt elongated and pretzel-ed in on herself. Flashes and blips of purples, pinks, blues and golds.

Familiar cobblestones underfoot, with Silverward's arms tight around her, the woman gasping heavily against her. People walked past. The world pulsed, ebbing and flowing like a river teeming with life, zipping past in a blur and they the immovable anchor, lodged in sediment. She blinked, the city returned to normal, loam, bricks and mortar becoming solid. Shocked, she staggered back, stomach lurching. The symphony of the city returning in a crescendo. 

Silverward, held onto her, 

"Try breath... It will subside! I promise!" 

"What did you do?" She choked, weak kneed, holding onto Silverward's wrist with a vice like grip. 

"Got us out of the Narrows faster than a blounder!" 

What the fuck was that? Was it magic?

The taste of occrea was strong in the air and Silverward practically crackled.

"Come on.. You need a drink. First time is always a bit dicey." Holding her hand, Silverward began leading her down the street. "I know the perfect place we can settle."

Struggling to keep her balance due to the ringing in her ears, the thief began to notice familiar shop fronts.

_That couldn't be right? Surely they couldn't have traveled that far?_

Whistles and hoots squeaked in the city, Blake replying to one in particular, allowing the peculiar woman to drag her through her hometown as if she was an out of towner.

With confidence, Silverward ushered the confuddled thief through the door of The Hollows End and on to a long bench, squeezing in beside an half elf dressed in frippery, a human, a gangly scholar who looked miserable and a halfing who was attempting to charm a female barbarian with a lute and seemed to be succeeding.

A tankard of ale appeared in front of her and Silverward squeezed in next to her. Pushing the drink into her hand, the pixiesh rogue encouraged softly,

"You're looking a tad peaky..... Trust me, this'll help!"

Vision alternating between blurry and so crisp it hurt, Blake rubbed at her eyes, making an attempt to reach for it. The handle phasing in and out of existence. Silverward seemed to be surrounded by an aura of purple so dark it was almost black in hue, fizzing and popping. Hazy after images moved sluggishly, the conversations in the tavern garbled, a mingling of words drawn out painfully slowly or rapid fire sentences smooshed together. Shivering in the heat, she allowed her concerned companion to raise the mug to her lips.

Blake drank greedily, hyper aware of the liquid entering her throat and gullet. She was pretty certain a log in the fire flickered from a tree branch full of green summer plumage to a pile of cold dark grey ash. Another shake of her head to clear her vision and the fire was back to normal. A trick of the light no doubt.

Exhaustion crept through her bones, enveloping sore muscles. Letting out an agonized moan, Blake rested her forehead on the table, appreciative of the warmth and the smell of fresh oak conjuring images of lush glades, the creaking of ancients forests and damp earthy moss.

x  
x

Groutling sizzling in highly cultivated lard, bright yolked chucks slipping over thick slices of toasted bread and blood pudding. All an enticing smell to rouse anyone from their slumber. Blake's stomach painfully cramped,, squeezing in on itself, gurgling.

The gurgling became a loud viscous _gloop._

Something underneath her was warm and soft, gently rising and falling. Mewling, she snuggled closer to the source of heat.

_Gloop_

Rattling of pots and pans.

A whistle that began to get louder.

The _shuuuf shuff_ of something slipping over flagstones.

Cracking open her gummy eyes a sliver, she tried to make sense of the world. The soft material under her cheek belonged to Silverward's shirt, whose chest she was currently using as a pillow. Mouth wide open, a light snore escaped the rogue along with a white crust of drool at the corner of her lips.

_What the abyss had happened? Where was she?_

Disorientated, the thief tried to raise herself on her elbow, struggling due to the lumpy cushions of the couch and the way her legs where intertwined with the naked ones of her sleeping companion, who was still wearing her green ankle boots.

_Gloop_

Ears twitching, Blake followed the sound.. On a shelf sat a large glass jar full of bright green liquid with something darker floating in its depths. Squinting, to get a better look, she leaned up.

The shape turned, floating in the murk, getting closer, like the prow of a ship looming out of the fog in the wharf. Tumbling, it turned clinking off the jar. It took a few seconds for the confused brunette to register what it was.

At the sight of the rotting Giants severed big toe, Blake screamed, pushing off Silverward and the couch in a bid to get away, colliding with the solid, stone floor.

Silverward sat bolt upright,

"Whhzzmpf!"

Hair stuck up in all directions, eyes still closed, before flopping face first back into the sofa and resuming her light snoring.

_Everything hurt!_

Everything was too light, too loud and _sore_.

Two garish bright pink slippers, with fluffy bunny ears came into view.

"So, you're finally awake then?" 

Rolling over onto her back, she got a worms eye view of a pair of magnified eyes, surrounded by greying hair in rollers.

"Miss Gladowhag??"

Mouth set into a thin line, the halfling tinkerer rolled up a newspaper, thwaking Silverward over the head, 

"- And you can get up too! Half the day be over already!"

"Meeehaaaha, I'm awake," Silverward tried to shield herself with Blake's cloak from the sudden onslaught. An extra hard wallop had her sitting up and yelling "I'm AWAKE!"

"Good! Now get your backsides to the breakfast table if ye know what's good for you!"

Yawning, Silverward scratched her arse, mussed up her already messy hair and collapsed against the sofa back.

Lurching to her feet, Blake followed the halfing woman through into the kitchen. Her surroundings were unrecognizable, having never visited Miss Gladowhag's actual living space, only ever conducting business in her parlor, workshop or numerous other designated places.

The decor was no different, still surrounded by strange jars and vials she could not name. Little contraptions whizzed by carrying condiments or odds and ends. As she entered, Miss Gladowhag turned from the range where she was flipping groutling in a pan with a spatula, 

"You!.." She pointed at the confused, aching thief, her tone leaving nothing up to debate, and then at a place set at the table, "-Sit there!"

She was wearing a small apron that read _"I don't do things by half"_

Blake supposed it was some sort of play on words, that only some people might get. She had the good sense to not make light of it as disapproval rolled of the small, bustling woman in waves.

"Miss Glado.." She began.

Cracking the shell of a chuck, against the edge of the pan, Miss Gladowhag expertly tossed it in the flames of the range,

"Aluk's been seen to... Made a good bit out of the basket you left behind."

Rubbing at her face, Blake internally cursed, guilt creeping through the fear that was beginning to settle in, finding she was unable to recall swathes of the evening, 

"I'm sorry... I don't know what happened."

Miss Gladowhag remained stony silent as she continued to work, piling plates high with food and slumping them down in the center of the table.

"Eat up!"

Using her fingers, Blake plucked at the thick groutling, blood pudding and hot bread. She leaned back when Rostoya flipped a chuck on her full plate and the other on to an empty plate across from her.

"Mornin!"

The chipper, cavalier delivery garnered the new arrival with a dark scowl from the cook.

Arms folded across her chest, and the bunny ears of the slippers bobbing up and down as the tapping of her foot commenced, magnified eyes followed the yawning stretching, half naked, Silverward to the other unoccupied chair. Narrowed to slits when the rogue plucked a piece of grouting off the plate and began chewing on it, one knee resting on the tables edge.

Reading the room, Blake Instinctively tried to make herself small, head hunkering into her shoulders, tail firmly clamped between her legs, trying to avoid the wink Silverward threw her way, choosing instead to concentrate on her breakfast, scarfing it down as fast as possible.

"You have any idea the trouble the pair of you caused last night!?"

Silverward paused mid-chew, groutling hanging from her mouth, eyes swiveling between a red faced Miss Gladowhag and a very meek Blake. Ears flattening against her head, she was pretty certain steam was piping out of Rostoya's own as the halfling unfolded the newspaper, reading aloud,

"Blue phantom witnessed in the Narrows, 'City Watch baffled!'" Magnified eyes peered at them both as she flipped the corner of the newspaper down to make sure they were paying attention, "- And this one here is interesting... Gambling laws to be reviewed after a brawl erupted in a local tavern... Numerous people were _not_ pronounced dead at the scene though the decor would suggest otherwise!" Magnified eyes flashed "- Blue phantom, indeed!!... The Narrows is haunted enough without you adding to it, you absolute muppet!... You're supposed to be keeping a low profile!"

Silverward raised her hands, feigning innocence,

"Auntie, It wasn't our fault!"

"Auntie!... AUNTIE!" She whacked at Silverward with the rolled up newspaper. "- Don't you start that with me, you cheeky little shit!..... You start a brawl in my tavern and then in your infinite wisdom think it's a good idea to blink?......The Watch is gonna be crawling up my ass!... And as for you!" The irate halfing rounded on Blake, "- You... I'm just.... _Disappointed_.... This one here is an idiot!" 

The rogue looked up, 

"Oi!" 

Rostoya ignored her, continuing, 

"-But you! YOU ought to know BETTER!"

Chest heaving the tinkerer slapped the newspaper down on the table. Silverward reached for it, licking her thumb and forefinger, languidly turning the pages as Miss Gladowhag muttered and sighed, pouring them a cup of tea.

Blake mumbled an apology,

"I'm sorry.. I can't remember half the night.."

Casually, Silverward offered,

"That tends to happen after the first few blinks or two... On account of the magiks and all the gobbledy gook... Wizard tried to explain it to me once.. Displacement and what not!" Not missing a beat, she proudly announced, " Lookit this here... Got a right good drawing of me... Don't I look... " She paused for dramatic effect " - _dashing_?"

She looked Blake square in the eye, a devilish smirk on her face as she showed off the artist rendition of a blurred silhouette with very recognizable fly away hair.

A vein in Miss Gladowhag's forehead pulsed. Grabbing a bottle she attacked the rogue, spraying her,

"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN.... GET!" Each word punctuated with a spritz. Sliverward spluttered, grabbing a slice of toast and dropping Blake a sly wink before bolting from the kitchen with the newspaper. Rostoya sighed with exasperation, "- I swear that child will be the death of me!"

Gaze downcast, Blake's ears drooped as Rostoya took a seat, 

"Atleast you have the gumption to look guilty!"

Shoulders sagging, Blake nervously twisted the material of her trousers,

"I am, Miss Gladowhag! We didn't mean any harm.. Things just.... Sort of got out of hand!"

"That's the biggest understatement this side of Thornshade!"

Taking a sip of her tea, she pushed the plate of food towards the Cerebani woman,

"Ye didn't eat yesterday, did you?"

"Had an apple and some pudding!" Blake replied, defensively, taking another slice of toast.

The halfling woman sighed deeply,

"I don't like doing this but in light of everything...." Her face and tone became grave, "- My establishments doors are closed to you for the foreseeable future!"

Blake dropped her fork, starting,

"But... Miss.."

Holding up a stubby, work hardened finger as a way to demand silence,

"No ifs or buts! Can't have it getting out you pulled something like this an got away with it!" 

"How am I gonna survive.. What if I've got something to sell!"

"You'll just have to come up something else, wont ye? Maybe take up the offer from yon barmaid?"

"But Miss Gladowhag!" She wailed, "- I can't.."

"Quit belly aching.. It's unbecoming... My minds made up... And it ain't like it's forever... I'd say an honest days work would do ye the world of good!"

"Why am I being punished?"

"Would ye prefer I chop your ears off?" She sniffed, "- I've done far worse for far less!"

And deep down Blake knew it was the truth.

"How long for?"

"As long as I say.. Or as long as they'll have ye!

"But what if they won't take me?"

"Like I said, you'll have to figure something else out, won't ye?" Using her hands, she raised herself off the chair, "- Swing down there after you've finished up your grub and made yourself presentable... You stink like a brewery and not in a good way.... Is no rush."

Miserably, Blake nibbled on the rest of her breakfast. Patting her sympathetically on the head, Miss Gladowhag shuffled off to the sitting room,

"Lena! You heathen! Get those devil boots off my table, this instant!"

It was closely followed by another whack and a loud yelp.


	7. Chapter 7

.  
.

Hidden in among the crooked and cool chimney pots, Blake observed the comings and goings of the the yard below.

It was surprisingly larger and more spacious than she had first believed, not really having taken much notice in her haste to get as far away from it as possible after the impromptu and inconvenient visit. Her lack of notice had nothing to do with an insufferable blond barmaid who had a penchant for wielding serving implements, who wasn't at all distracting.

_No, not one bit at all!_

There was the groutling sty she had been held prisoner in and next to it a stable, a few more smaller sheds and a covered wagon. On the right hand side a solid gate that led out onto a narrow deceptive lane way, just wide enough to fit a cart down, that snaked out behind the buildings that made up the front street.

She surveyed how the back alleyway down which she had attempted to make her daring escape ended abruptly in the wall of temptation. And how scaling that particular wall would only serve to land the escapee in the backyard of the tavern and no doubt into the waiting fists of a would be catcher.

The whole thing struck Blake as highly devious and unfair sport!

When she spied the bright blond haired barman come out into the yard, she could barely contain the growl in her chest as she retreated further into the shadows.

She observed how he opened a chicken coop, tossing out a handful of grain and began collecting eggs, legs surrounded by little feathered creatures who clucked and pecked at the ground. He carefully placed the eggs in a bucket, crooning words of gentle encouragement at one or two disgruntled hens who refused to budge before popping the bucket just inside the backdoor of the tavern

He then set to leading out the horse from the stable, whistling a merry tune as he lovingly groomed the creature until its coat gleamed with dapples in the morning sun, all the while the horse rested its hind leg, lazily flicking it's tail and it's ears relaxed back in the signs it was at ease and enjoying itself.

The horse itself caught Blake's particular attention as the man began to saddle it with a harness and crupper. It's seemed far too fine a creature to be relegated to that of a mere cart horse and she was certain the bandy legged fellows down at Folly's Meadow would be scandalized . It had a broad back, a deep chest and rippling hindquarters that danced with excitement as he put on the bridle, checking all the straps and leathers, and began backing it up into the bracers of the covered over wagon.

It impatiently chomped at the bit, giving a toss of its head and flaring its nostrils as he finished securing the cart ending in a hefty pat of its muscular neck.

She continued to observe him loading ropes, a feed bag with an accompanying bag of grain, a traveling pack and a bed roll into the back of the cart. By the looks of things he was setting for a few days travel. He ducked back into the tavern, much to the horse's dislike shown by the sound of metal ringing off stone as it impatiently pawed the ground sending up sparks that the lamp lighting urchins would no doubt admire. On his way back out, Blake caught the glint of a short sword on one hip, a throwing axe at the other, a crossbow in his hands and a quiver of bolts on his shoulder.

_Nice to know this bloke didn't take any chances, the roads becoming increasingly treacherous of late, littered with bandits and opportunists looking for easy pickings._

He inspected the crossbow, checking the spring loaded mechanism and the string and only when satisfied did he place it on the driver's seat. He let out a high pitched whistle and suddenly a small black and white dog burst out of the tavern scattering the alarmed chickens in all directions. At the sight of the dog, Blake hissed uncontrollably, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, her ears flattened and her tail doubled in size.

_The furry little vermin!_

Pushing the gate out, opening it into the laneway, the blond man doubled back picking up the small dog and hopping lightly into the driver's seat. Gathering the long reins, he clicked his tongue and the horse took off at a jostling pace, ears pricked forward yanking its head, looking for freedom.

Waiting until she could no longer hear the clip clopping of horseshoes, Blake remained in her hiding spot inspecting her outfit.

After leaving Miss Gladowhag and a far too cheerful Silverward and the assurance that Akulk would be checked up on, Blake had careened over the rooftops to her small corner of the world.

One the way over she had noticed the semaphore of thieves speak and urchin runes already conveying that she was a person non gratis and the doors of illicit trade were now closed to her. It left a sour taste in her mouth, but Rostoya's word was her bond. And if she didn't have her word then what did she have?

It wasn't that the Cerebani woman had doubted that the epicenter of a vast network would make good on her promise, she just hadn't expected word to have spread like wildfire.

But who was she kidding?

Of course it would! This was Rostoya Gladowhag by the gods sake!

Every thief, vagabond, pick pocket and urchin in the city owed her some sort of due.

She supposed it was marginally better than missing an ear or ending up feet first in the river with manacles round her ankles.

Washing herself, she had changed into freshly washed and dried clothes in a vain attempt to look neat that was simply to do with not wanting to look slovenly and make a good impression on the job , not that she cared what Yang thought, she had set her hair in a braid and had taken great pains not to scuff her outfit on her way to the Bear and Sickle.

_Well now was a good a time as any!_

Gathering her best cloak around her, Blake scaled down the drain pipe dropping silently into the tavern's yard. She ignored the chickens who clucked at her intrusion as she passed, shoulders back she mustered an air of confidence as she approached the back door.

The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted out into the yard, devilishly inviting like a Mage with a charm. Peering through the door into the gloom, Blake spied the culprit.

On a counter sat rows upon rows of bread rolls cooling in the window. From the amount neatly stacked on the other counter it looked like someone had been at it all morning. For a brief moment she considered grabbing as many as she could and absconding with the ill gotten gains before anyone was the wiser.

At the far end, with her back to the Cerebani woman, the copper haired serving woman who was overly protective of cutlery diligently worked, strong arms roughly kneading the dough, flattening and refolding, slamming it down and repeating the process. Inside the sweltering kitchen, the red head methodically pulled lumps off the dough, swiftly shaping it into balls and setting them into neat rows on a large flat wooden bread peel.

Once done, she pumped the bellows and carefully opened the clay oven to check heat.

Blake took the opportunity to lightly rap on the open door.

Without taking her eyes off the oven the red head grabbed the long handle of the bread peel to move the doughy loaves into the oven,

"Just a minute!"

Stepping back from the door, Blake patiently waited casting her gaze round the yard.

An attempt had been made to make it cheery on top of its function. Colorful flowers in full bloom littered wooden boxes on the windowsills. A large wooden crate surrounded by smaller ones looked to be a make shift seating area.

It was a relative suntrap, a bright corner of the world with no breeze just late morning light warming up the flag stones.

You wouldn't be mocked if you mistook it as being anywhere else in the world other than Dame's Point Landing.

A few birds chirped, flittering about and Blake's tail swished two and fro within the confines of her cloak, her hips moving ever so slightly.

A bold Shorebreast brazenly hopped close to her foot, tipping it's head this way and that before making a grab at a piece of straw beside her boot and fluttering off darting under the eaves of the stable. Ears flickering back and forth, she was caught in the throes of wanting to chase it. One ear picked up the sound of footfalls on flag stones, the abrasive voice cutting into her musings,

"What do you want?" The baker looked tough blocking the doorway, striking a power pose with legs set in a firm stance, wide shoulders and hands on her hips looking immovable. But the whole act of intimidation was ruined by a smudge of flour on her nose. Eyes narrowed," - I know you... You're the thief from the other day!"

"I prefer to go by Blake, actually!"

"And I'd like to be called the Queen of Silverward but everyone calls me Nora, cause that's who I am, so here we are!"

The two women scowled at each other.

"I'm looking for Yang, is she in?"

"And what do you be wanting her for? "

"She told me to be here."

Nora regarded her suspiciously, her tongue making the rounds inside her mouth before ending in her sucking her teeth.

"Well pet project, She's not here." Blake tried not to bristle at the snide insult, "- But she did leave some instructions in case you did show your face."

Nora stepped through the door, securely closing it behind her as if she expected Blake to barge in and pilfer anything that wasn't nailed down.

Taking off across the yard she disappeared into the groutling sty to a chorus of happy grunts and squeals. The sounds of rummaging could be heard drifting from the interior. Nora returned with a bucket containing a wire brush and a small brown sack. She unceremoniously shoved it into Blake's hands.

Following the pastel girl across the yard, they came to a halt by a huge pile of an assortment of pans, some metal, some earthenware, large and small, beside the water pump in the corner of the yard.

"You can start by scrubbing these. Inside and out! There's wash flakes in that there bag. Want them gleaming!"

Blinking in confusion and disbelief, Blake looked between the bucket, Nora and the pile of pots, the strong smell of urine, feces and sarkenleaf filling her nostrils causing it to crinkle in disgust and show her fangs.

Nora clapped her hands, a hint of dark enjoyment on her face,

"Chop chop. Haven't got all day!"

x  
x

Being left to her own devices, the thief who was currently thinking that she was being unfairly put upon had hung up her best cloak on a nearby nail, slipped out of her open toed boots, rolled up her pant legs and shirt sleeves and reluctantly set to work.

Finding the out-house and manure pit, she had emptied each bedpan and spittoon holding them at arms length after wrapping her secondary makeshift hood round her nose and lower face so as not to suffer the indignity of the stench of feces and vomit and she spared a thought for Fidgug wondering how on earth he managed this all day, every day.

Crouching down Malasana style, she alternated between scrubbing the pots in the bucket with the brush and wash flakes and shuffling over to refill the bucket from the water pump once it was filthy, emptying the foul water down the drain, whilst also trying her best not to get splashed.

Occasionally, she would feel Nora's disapproving eyes peeking round the door or through the window to check on her progress. And Blake would slam the pots down especially hard to make as much noise as possible as a way to voice her displeasure.

Applying elbow grease on the stubborn dark stains, the origins of which she daren't bare thinking about, she had worked up quite the sweat under the hot sun steadily climbing to its apex and she was appreciative of gentle breeze on her uncovered ears helping cool her down somewhat.

Having taken care of Alulk for many moons, it wasn't as if she wasn't used to hard or smelly work, she just didn't approve of this particular brand of indignity.

This wasn't what she had imagined the trade for an honest days graft in exchange for a hot meal and all the scraps she could carry would entail.

_Was this even worth it?_

Her tail gave an involuntary angry swish, flicking and curling at the tip.

Wiping at the sweat on her brow, she rested her forearms on her knees, the wire brush held loosely in her grasp, water dripping from its bristles on the flagstones when she caught the quiet murmur of words and footfalls in the yard. Without turning round, she snapped peevishly,

"No need to check up on me!"

Casting a murderous glance over her shoulder, she was surprised to find a very bleary eyed and puffy faced girl blinking in the bright sunlight. Seemingly not noticing the Cerebani woman in shit up to her ankles, she gave a wide yawn, stretching one arm over her head whilst the other absently scratched the almost translucent skin of her belly.

It ended in the girl rubbing her black locks causing the mop to stand up in every direction.

As if a random stranger who could possibly gut her was an every day occurrence, she yawned again, shuffling barefoot over the flagstones, shoulders hunched in a crouch like a decrepit hag, until finally arriving at the water trough. With no fanfare, she face planted into the water submerging her whole head for an uncomfortably long time making Blake wonder if she was attempting to do away with herself by drowning.

She could most certainly sympathize and understand if this is what the black haired girl with the red streaks had to look forward to every day.

Eventually, the odd girl resurfaced, shaking the excess water from her head like a shaggy dog. Shuffling back over the yard, leaving a trail of water in her wake, she grunted in Blake's general direction and gave a lack luster wave before disappearing back into the kitchen.

A loud scolding scream drifted through the window.

"Ruby Rose!.... My kitchen!"

And beneath her make shift mask, Blake grinned.

There _was_ a God in the world!

x  
x  
x  
Sighing at the amount of chamber pots that still needed cleaning, Blake resumed scrubbing. She had no idea how many buckets of water she had filled and emptied, but her knees were aching and there was a deep burn in her thighs and ass cheeks.

There were only one or two left.

So intent on finishing the task at hand she almost didn't notice the long shadow looming until it almost blocked out the light.

"So... Finally turned up, did you?... Actually kind of surprised you did!"

The melodious voice that didn't carry the Dame's Point Landing twang, caught Blake off guard.

Spooked, she twisted about to deliver a sermon upon high, when her left calf decided this was the perfect time to cramp and spasm, slipping from under her, landing her prone on to the wet flagstones where she flailed uselessly, the blond barmaid watching her in amusement holding a metal bucket from which rose steam.

"We've gotta stop meeting like this or folks will start getting ideas.-" She put down the bucket, continuing teasing and light. Eyes dancing with barely contained mirth, "- Do you always spend so much time on your back? Is this a cat thing? You want your belly tickling?

Struggling to sit upright, the thief tried to feign annoyance but the traitorous extremity lazily swished and curled

Yang's gaze landed on the midnight black tail and her smile turned into an infuriating shit eating grin.

Blake Belladonna had never wanted to chop her own tail off more than she did in that moment.

Maybe it wasn't too late, she could call it quits, return to Miss Gladowhag begging for a different sort of punishment offering up her tail as collateral.

Yang stood over her, looking like she was enjoying herself immensely. Blake's gaze traveled up. The barmaid was wearing the same leather skirt and boots from their first meeting. Her bare midriff showed off the sculptured muscle and she wore a scrap of cloth wrapped around her chest that tied behind the neck and left scant to the imagination. Her blond locks caught the sunlight just so.

Blake tried not to stare and failed.

_Of course Yang would look amazing whilst she wallowed in the dirt like a groutling in shit._

Rolling onto her knees she felt a hot blush blossom over her cheeks at Yang's insinuation amongst other things and she tried to save face by haughtily snarling,

"That is racist! And I take affront at what you're implying!"

It obviously didn't quite have the intended impact, as Yang continued on relentlessly,

"I don't think being on your knees, dripping wet is exactly helping your case here? "

Getting one foot under her, Blake spat,

"Fuck you! Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!"

The shit eating grin never left Yang's face as she offered out a hand.

Not that she had needed to, or wanted to, or anything remotely along those lines, Blake grasped it. She most definitely wasn't at all impressed at how easily she was pulled to her feet, or noticed how tanned biceps flexed, or the callouses in certain places on fingertips and palms.

She was pulled into Yang's personal space, her scent pervading Blake's senses.

_Of course she smelt delicious to boot._

"I suppose you came out here to mock me?"

"Nope.. I came out to see how you were getting on and if you wanted to join us for a bite to eat before the busy hour started?.... The rest.... you can't be expecting a girl to pass up an opportunity like that?"

She forced herself to return Yang's gaze, trying not swallow under the intense scrutiny as lilac eyes searched her face,

"Your nose healed nicely!"

"No thanks to you!"

It lacked the ferocity with which she wished to deliver it.

Yang still didn't let go of her hand, instead she felt at the material of the thief's shirt pressing lightly against her stomach with her other. At the contact Blake sucked in a gasp of air getting another waft of the heady and intoxicating aroma.

Fingertips moved over the material, against Blake's quivering stomach in an oddly intimate gesture. A minuscule puff of hot air tickled her ear, the tip flickered rapidly, the golden jewelry tinkling.

"By Iwone, you're soaked " Yang murmured quietly. With hooded eyes, Blake dared her to make some sort of innuendo, but the mocking tone was gone. The blond seemed captivated by Blake's fluttering ear. Traveling up from the thief's stomach, Yang's hand went to reach out and touch it, retreating at the last moment as if she thought better of it falling back to the material of Blake's shirt resuming it's previous ministrations, her voice came out barely a whisper, "- You need to dry out before you catch your death."

Coupled with the warmth of the sun, wrapped in a cocoon of a soothing scent and hypnotic feather light kneading of gentle fingers on her stomach, the previous evening's escapades finally caught up with her. Stifling a yawn, Blake's eyes drooped and her head drowsily tipped forward nearly leaning on Yang's clavicle, who froze like she was trapped in amber.

Blake was so close the tip of her ear brushed a soft cheek, the sensation sending a luxurious shudder down her spine to the tip of her swaying tail. A low rumble started somewhere deep in her chest, when she felt the faintest nuzzle in return.

"YANG!!"

The spell was broken, startling Blake out of her stupor. Both women took a swift half step away from each other just as Ruby stumbled into the yard carrying a slightly beveled and recognizable tea tray laden with precariously balanced loaves, cheese and cured meats. Avoiding Yang's curious gaze, the Cerebani woman grasped the handle of the forgotten bucket of hot water busying herself with pouring a little into each bedpan leaving a little in the bottom, trying her damnedest not to think about the feeling of fingers rubbing her tummy or the implications of her practically turning to jelly.

She did _not_ like her!

It was more than likely the case that Yang had accidentally found a previously undiscovered sweet spot.

_That was it, it had to be. No other explanation!_

And Blake was probably still under the influence of Silverward's discombobulation or whatever she called it, and was therefore at an unfair disadvantage.

Using the yard pump, she added some cold, dipping her fingers to test the heat until it was just about bearable. Collecting a handful of wash flakes, she scrubbed furiously at her hands and forearms trying to create a lather, ignoring the conversation that the pair thought was hushed and the feeling of eyes on her back.

"Is that her?... You didn't tell me she was a Cerebani....Does Dad know?"

"Shhh Ruby.... Stop staring."

"Does he?"

"Yeah... I had to."

"Never seen a real one."

"Not many folk have. Free or not."

"Is it true people keep them..."

"_Ruby!_ don't be rude!"

Blake cleared her throat continuing to scratch at her skin until it began to turn a shade of pink due to the rough handling and excavate under her claws.

"Ummm, hello," Ruby's voice was high and reedy, "- Would you like to join us for something to eat?"

Tipping out the hot cooling water, Ruby angled the chamber pots and spittoons in the sunlight to dry them out. She went to hold out a hand, "- I'm R..."

"Ruby... I heard!"

Awkwardly, the young girl took her hand back, stammering,

"I'm.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

It wasn't this girl's fault, her lot in life nor was she responsible for the grim twisted reality of her people. That they were deemed as exotic and highly prized possessions in certain circles and the term pet a far too nice word for the cruel fate that awaited any one who was unlucky enough to get caught.

Some were born into shackles, and Blake had spent many a dark night wondering which was worse, being bred and born like chattel having never known freedom or being captured and having it stolen.

Shrugging, the thief wiped her hands on her pants and collected her boots, padding over to the table. Taking a seat so she could put her back to the sun hoping it would dry out the damp from the shirt, she pulled on the open toed boots, tucking in the trouser legs and tying them tight.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught the crestfallen look she garnered from Ruby before she turned retreating to the safety of  
Slicing into the tube of cured sausage, Yang attempted to smooth things over,

"She didn't mean anything by it... Sometimes she can say things without thinking.-" Blake simply watched the sharp blade split the brown rind of the meat as slice after slice flopped into the wooden plate. Once the pile was big enough the barmaid moved onto the cheese carving it into wedges, voice laced with warm affection, "- Look, Ruby's a bit sheltered is all. After Mum died, Dad wound up being a little over protective."

"I'm not mad!"

Lilac eyes looked beyond the thief,

"You sure?"

Forcing herself to be casual, Blake gathered her tail round onto her lap, holding the end loosely and teased the scarf from round her neck, flattening it out in second nature and went to place it over her ears in a refashioned hood. Mid-slice, the knife stopped.

"You don't have to do that here. Not if you don't want to?"

In the middle of setting the material, the thief paused,

"Do what?"

"Wear that."

Blake stated matter a fact,

"I wear it cause people can't be trusted."

Yang didn't get chance to reply as Nora chose that moment to come out into yard carrying a sack on one shoulder and swinging a monstrously large pot with the other, Ruby bringing up the rear with a tray of mugs.

Dishing out the food on to the wooden plates, Yang took a seat reaching into the depths of the large pot and retrieving two smaller ones. Nora dumped the heavy sack at Blake's feet and slumped onto one if the crates.

Blake waited until everyone else started eating , mumbling a word of thanks to Ruby when she timidly placed a mug of piping hot brown liquid beside her plate. Nibbling on her food, she listened to the three women as they discussed the day ahead, diviying up the chores that needed doing now that Tai had gone on a keg run. She rolled her shoulders trying to get the material of her shirt to unstick from her skin and watched the chickens scratching and pecking at the ground, grubbing for worms in between the cracks of the stones.

Once or twice she caught Ruby staring, fascinated and Blake offered a weak smile receiving a broad one in return.Finally the trio agreed that being the sort of day it was the lunch fare would consist of cold cuts of meats, cheeses, bread loaves and hot dripping and later in the evening a warm broth made up from the leftovers on the groutling carcass from the previous day.

Nora commented on how the sky was clear and the intense midday sun looked like it might hold for the remainder of the day and they wouldn't be remiss to pull out one or two of the long benches out in to the sun drenched alley way.

People always drank more sitting out in the summer sun and enjoying themselves.

So it was decided, Yang would tend bar, Ruby would wait tables, Nora would alternate between food service and seeing to the cooking fires and ovens and Blake.

Well for all intents and purposes she was the day's scullery maid.  
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It was mind numbing yet grueling work, fetching and carrying hot water for the sink or the cooking pot. Alternating between peeling carrots and potatoes to washing plates and mugs. Dragging in timber from outside to keep the fires going.

Nora ran the kitchen with military precision and barely bridled contempt for Blake's presence. More than once the Cerebani harbored dark thoughts of telling her to stick one of her beloved forks where the sun didn't shine after a particularly abrasively barked order or chiding that she hadn't separated the scraps correctly.

_Didn't Blake know that peelings and bread went in one pot and bones, meats and dripping in the other? It was like she had never worked in a kitchen before!_

The red head hadn't taken too kindly to being reminded that _"surprise surprise, the Cerebani thief had not had any opportunities what so ever! And NO her idea of fun wasnt slaving away in a sweltering kitchen on a hot summers day"_

She also bit her tongue every time the cook counted the forks in the pot whenever she returned from front of house as if she expected Blake to have pocketed one in the whole two minutes she was left alone.

And the plates and the mugs just kept coming in an endless barrage, one after the other until Blake's hands began to prune being constantly submerged and she was pretty certain the tips of her claws were turning to pulp.

A sign of an unusually brisk trade for the time of day with no let up in sight.

Nora's idea of serving in the laneway was paying dividends as it was thronged with boisterous punters, laughter and cheering drifting through the side door into the kitchen.

Barking at her, Nora showed her how to settle the plates, exactly how many slices of meat, cheese, loaves and dripping went into each serving as an extra pair of hands was needed.

Without the irate red head breathing down her neck, Blake settled finding a rhythm, slicing, ladling and grabbing produce. Separating the waste with fewer mistakes and doing her best to ignore the ever growing pile of discarded plates as she stirred the huge pot in the arched fireplace through which she could see beyond into the main floor.

Once or twice she found her gaze lingering on the blond barmaid. Marveling how she confidently engaged customers in conversation and served beverages with an easy going smile. It was like watching a master swindler at work, the way Yang toed the line between being friendly and familiar whilst deftly avoiding the leers and punters who aggressively pursued her. So distracted, she didn't hear Ruby approach until the tiny girl was almost on top of her carrying two pewter mugs of cool cider.

She offered one out.

"It's ok to take a break, you know. Nora is a slave driver in the kitchen." Her cheeks turned scarlet, screwing her eyes shut and she babbled, " - I'm sorry!"

Blake took the offered mug,

"Ruby, it's ok, I'm not gonna collapse in a faint just cause you said the word slave..." She turned the mug in her hands, inspecting the contents adding, "- I mean, you're not wrong! "

Ruby let out a honking snort of a chuckle, taking Blake aback. She hadn't thought the comment that funny.

"Nora can do the floor. Want help with the plates?"

"Oh, Thank the Gods. Yes, please!"

One thing Blake discovered as the two women scrubbed plates and cutlery was Ruby was a talker.

Her words, like her work, were full of exuberance and enthusiasm. Once she got over her initial awkwardness, the bubbly serving girl talked a mile a minute, bouncing from one topic to another with barely space in between to breath. And Blake didn't mind, it meant she didn't have to fill the spaces with unnecessary words, or answer tough questions. She was just glad of the help and speed of which the nearly herculean task was completed.

Listening to Ruby whilst she worked, Blake gleaned that they were from a place called Iadrura in the East and their parents had once been in the employ of the ruling noble in those parts. She had a little dog called Zwei who she lavished with attention. Surprisingly, the unassuming serving girl was a weapons nut! She had wanted to apprentice at a smithy and learn how to repair and make them but her father forbade her. On her days off she snuck away to where ever the sound of hammer on anvil rang out and some of the smithy's had been nice enough to show her how to take care of a blade and sharpen it. She found crossbows in particular fascinating and she couldn't wait to get hold of one so she could take it part, tinker about and see if there was room for improvement.

A girl after Rostoya's heart!

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Stack of plates and beer steins in neat towers so they could drip dry on the side board, Blake would almost call it a proud accomplishment, if the whole thing wasn't ruined by the niggling thought that the thief had kind of enjoyed herself.

At Ruby's insistence via shooing her out of the door, Blake found herself out in the yard and made a beeline for one of the upturned crates, grateful for the respite. From beyond the wall came the sounds of customers still imbibing and enjoying the cusp of late afternoon giving way to evening.

Ruby, carrying another tray with bowls, bread rolls and two steins, joined her as she massaged her aching feet.

"A hot meal for day's work was the deal, right?"

Hiding her surprise at the unexpected bounty having been under the impression that the previous meal was payment, Blake mutely nodded. She wasn't stupid enough to pass up free grub and she wasn't about to remind the serving girl that she had already been fed that day.

In fact, considering how in between Miss Gladowhag's breakfast, the unexpected lunch and now this, she realized this was the most she had eaten on any single day in months.

In between hurried mouthfuls of broth and soft buttered rolls, Ruby said,

". Ang, sez, ooou can go, after is!" She took a huge gulp of her drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "- Was nice having you here."

In stark comparison to the younger girl, who shoveled spoonfuls into her mouth as if she expected the bowl to sprout legs and make a break for it, Blake took her time over every morsel. The potatoes and carrots she had peeled were soft breaking apart in the fatty liquid, small pieces of groutling bobbing to the surface. Breaking apart the rolls, she daintily dunked them into the broth, closing her eyes when she chewed, savoring the flavour and consistency.

Guilt about her greed began to creep in as she spared a thought for Alulk or others not quite as lucky.

Taking a bread roll, she scooped out the middle, putting the excess filling into the bowl or on the ground for the chickens, under the watchful and confused eye of Ruby. Broth was practically impossible to share, but the vegetables and groutling, she could save and she began to scoop out pieces of the succulent meat and the most salvageable of the carrots and potatoes into the makeshift bread bowl.

"Whatcha doing?"

Blake looked up from the endevour as if it was the most normal thing in the world,

"Saving some for a friend."

With knitted eyebrows, Ruby quaffed more of her drink, side eyeing when the thief began to carefully wrap the concoction in a piece of cloth. Satisfied she had saved as much as she could, Blake took the bowl in both hands and upended it, guzzling greedily.

A small burp escaped.

Embarresed, the Cerebani was about to apologize when Ruby let one rip that vibrated and bounced off the walls.

"Impressive!"

"You're welcome!"

Both of them lasped into an awkward silence drinking the rest of their cider, curiosity rolling off Ruby like waves in the bay. Her light grey eyes darted between Blake's ears and her lazily curling tail. Any time Blake raised her eyebrows on the sip, Ruby's gaze would suddenly find the table fascinating or the wall or an inherent chicken that was pecking round their feet.

It was like there was a purple Goliath in the yard wearing a dress and neither one wanted to comment.

Unable to take the tension and having no wish to open the latch on _that_ particular box of delights, that she knew would only invite a billion and one questions, Blake began to gather the remnants of the dinner on the beveled tray. She made as if to take it back to the kitchen, when Ruby jumped to her feet grasping the handles,

"I'll... Just..drop these... To.. The., yeah."

She darted off across the yard, beer stein rattling off the bowls and cutlery.

Sipping the last of her drink, thoughtfully, she watched the small girl disappear.

_A strange one indeed!_

Turning her face to the sky, she closed her eyes basking in balmy heat slouching back against the table. A belly full of tasty food and nice cider was working wonders and she stretched out her legs in front of her, splaying her toes and unsheathing her claws just a little.

Maybe just a teeny tiny power nap.

"There you are?... Glad I caught you!"

At the sound of the warm voice, she cracked open an eye just a sliver, drinking in the view of Yang moving towards her carrying a small covered over pot and a bundle of cloth.

Trying to give herself something to do other than stare at tantalizing sway of the blond woman's hips, Blake raised the stein intent on taking a sip and was dismayed to find it empty. Faking a swallow for the look of the thing, she remained focused on the rim of the mug, nearly going cross eyed with the effort..

"Will this be OK for your friends?" Yang added drawing the thief's full attention, peeling back the lid of the pot to reveal scraps made of meats doused in dripping and a good few hefty bones far from being picked entirely clean. An effort had been made to hide uncut bread rolls under the bones. After close inspection, Blake noticed tiny holes caved into the sides like someone had deliberately poked a finger in there to make them look damaged. "- It's not alot being there ain't much waste left over with it being the day that it is."

Surely the barmaid had to know that she was handing over a veritable feast?

Bashfully, she pushed the cloth bundle closer to Blake,

"Ah added a Lil something extra for yourself... But you can share it how you like, o course. I mean it's yours to do what you want."

Flipping the edge the cloth back, Blake couldn't hide her surprise this time, her gaze landing on two bread rolls, a small wedge of cheese and a decent sized off cut of cured sausage. Nestled in the middle was an smooth speckled brown egg.

Her throat bobbed at a loss for words at the generosity.

"Yang," She breathed, "- I... I"

With gentle fingers, the blond retied the miniature knapsack,

"It's ok."

When Blake reached for the knapsack, Yang picked up the pot. She rubbed at the back of her neck,

"Is it ok if I come with you?"

"Where?"

"Where ever it is that you're going?... I mean.. I can help carry this." Yang moved the pot for emphasis.

"You want to come to Alulk's?" Blake asked in disbelief.

"Yeah... I mean, if it's OK?"

Looking up at the chimney stacks and the windows of the tavern in contemplation, Blake mulled it over.

_What harm could it do? Maybe it would do the barmaid a world of good to see how folks on the fringes lived? And Yang was right, it wasn't as if she could carry everything by herself. Or maybe it was all an elaborate ploy. Well if it was then it would serve her right if she came worse off._

Coming to a decision, she asked,

"Can you handle yourself?"

Yang flexed a bicep, grinning,

"Have you seen these?"

With an uncontrollable sickle of a smirk playing at the corners of mouth, the thief shook her head and sighed,

"Lead the way, oh great and noble knight!"

The beaming smile she received made her instinctively fluff out the ends of the cloak to hide the way her tail gave a minuscule swish.

Yang led the way out of the yard through the empty kitchen and out into the laneway.

As she was passing through, Blake's gaze landed on a familiar cylindrical pot and an idea began to form.

"One sec!"

Dashing back into the kitchen, Blake peered through the the main corridor out on to the floor that was doing a lazy trade. A handful of punters made up of various groups relaxed at tables and no one paid any mind to a faceless member of kitchen staff. Unable to find her quarry, she checked through the archway of the fire and was pleased to find Nora busy serving drinks.

On a shelf up high, she spotted the cylindrical pot full of clean two pronged forks. Standing on her tip toes she and using her tail for balance she managed to jimmy it forward a bit until she could clasp it. Taking one out and replacing the pot, she was mid turn with fork in hand when she froze.

The other side of the fire archway ladling out broth, two light grey eyes narrowed, watching her intently.

Blake put a finger to her lips, coupled with a conspiratorial wink,

"Shhhhhh!"

Before Ruby could answer or alert anyone, Blake bolted out of the kitchen into the alleyway almost tripping over a few battered boots and outstretched legs. Streaking past her companion she took a sharp left, hurrying down the street, her eyes scouting the brick work and buildings.

Yang's heavy footfalls followed close behind,

"What's the rush?"

Blake twirled the fork between her fingers,

"I borrowed this!"

Laughing, Yang said,

"She's gonna kill you."

With smug satisfaction, the thief with a death wish secreted it into the depths of her cloak.

Spying what she was searching for, Blake nimbly nipped over the street, avoiding carriages and horses alike. In a fluid movement that was second nature she bit into the cloth of the knapsack, grabbing the drainpipe giving it a thorough shake testing the validity of the brackets and bolts.

Over the years it had been a hard lesson learned as she had, on more occasion that she would care to admit, been victim to shoddy workmanship and maintenance resulting in her hanging precariously over a long dark drop, clinging on to a flimsy pipe like a tax collector and gold, beseeching any deity that might be passing by to throw her a life line so she didn't have to trade in one of her nine!

The longer the high thin screech of strained metal, the more pious she suddenly became. She would take up horticulture! She would trade her dastardly ways for vestments! Abyss, she would even give up fish!

Only when she was convinced did she commence the climb, working her toes into minuscule grooves and nodges in the brickwork as she shimmied up the side of the building. She was half way when she heard a tiny noise from the alleyway below. Looking down, knapsack firmly clamped between her teeth, she found Yang at the base holding the pot against her hip and a look of amusement on her face.

_Oh yes! Of course!_

Sliding down the drainpipe and dropping quietly on the ground Blake was left to wonder how on earth humans had managed to thrive. It wasn't like they could see in the dark, or fared well under the loam. Orcs and Goliaths had them outmatched when it came to brute strength. They didn't have an infinity or respect for the Heartsong if the elves where to be believed. Gnolls were far better trackers and they were outclassed when it came to building contraptions.

All in all, it didn't make sense.

But neither did how her traitorous tail lightly wrapped round Yang's wrist as they exited the alleyway and began strolling past shopfronts who were starting to light lanterns in the windows or how she entirely didn't hate it


	8. Chapter 8

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Cutting through squares and skirting courtyards, Blake kept her bearings by casting her eyes skywards searching for familiar landmarks to help her navigate the twisting turning streets of Dame's Point Landing. The storefronts and brickwork of the buildings changed as they pressed on, further away from the areas frequented by supposedly upstanding and desirable citizens going about their everyday business, closer to the Narrows and the neighborhoods deemed of being of ill repute.

All the while, Yang kept pace, throwing the Cerebani woman curious glances when she doubled back, or went to take an alleyway entrance only to sigh deeply and look for an alternate route.

Blake had never spent this much time on the footpaths and pavements, tail swishing and ears flattening, keeping as close to the walls as possible when they weaved through the early evening foot traffic made up of various people.

She itched to claw up the side of a building or leap from one low wall to an awning or bound through an open window she knew would eventually lead onto a flat roof top, but alas her travelling companion was an encumbrance, nay she'd go so far as to say even a hindrance, and she bit back the mounting frustration border-lining on peevishness born of frayed nerves and discomfort at being quite literally grounded. 

The whole thing was stifling.

It wasn't entirely the barmaid's fault given what you could almost call a disability, having only human arms and legs.

A group of drunken brawny armed sailors sprawled over the path, blocking their way and Blake swallowed a hiss when one came dangerously close, leering at Yang. Laden coin purses dangled invitingly from their belts and Blake briefly considered half inching one or two just to teach them a lesson. 

In a bid to avoid a City Watch patrol, she ducked down a side street, that she knew if she darted over a few rooftops would bring her to the nearby Falseham, but on the ground only served for her to lose her bearings almost completely. Spying a familiar looking crooked temple spire in the distance she headed towards it searching the walls for tell tale scratches and markings. 

A seemingly innocuous piece of cloth caught on a rusty nail caught her attention. It was non consequential to the untrained eye but a Gods send to those who knew its meaning.

Turning sideways, Blake squeezed down a narrow ginnel in between two buildings, the path underfoot well worn. Shimmying along it, she was half way down when she realized Yang wasn't on her tail, but instead she lingered at the entrance, examining the piece of cloth and peering into the gloom after Blake.

In a hissed whisper, the thief encouraged, 

"Come on..... What are you doing?"

The blonde turned her head sideways, 

"There's no way I'm gonna fit down there!" 

"Sure, you will!" The Cerebani woman, gestured with her hand, keeping her voice quiet, "- Just wiggle!"

"Blake, I dunno if you've noticed, but there's certain things that ain't gonna fit, no matter the amount of wiggling!"

She held the pot in front of her as if _that_ was the culprit. The action of pushing together her biceps, drew Blake's gaze to the potential problem.

Blake wheedled, 

"Are you sure...? Ya know...you can't just like.." She pulled an awkward face. "- _Suck them in?_"

"Blake, I don't think that's how the human body works?"

Blake whined, ears folding down and making her eyes huge, adding a slight pout, 

"Pleaasse, don't make me go all the way round!.... We're nearly there."

Colour began to creep over the bridge of Yang's freckled nose and apples of her cheeks. She broke eye contact to glance back the way they had come and then into the heights of the gap between the buildings, coming to land back on Blake, who slowly blinked. 

"Please?" 

Yang let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes, 

"Ok...." She passed in the pot. "- Here take this." 

The Cerebani grinned in triumph, taking the pot and shimmying back down the narrow gap making it look easy.

The barmaid's progress was slow, her back dislodging stones, swiping at cobwebs with her hand in a bid to save her golden tresses, feet moving inch by inch,

"If I get stuck I'll never talk to you ever again!"

Blake waited until Yang was a decent way in, wedged between the two walls by her curvy yet solid physique, before throwing cheekily over her shoulder, 

"Getting stuck _would_ be mightily embarrassing? ... And what makes you think I'd stick around?" 

Yang stalled, tone accusatory, 

"You'd leave me here?"

Blake flashed a wide teasing grin, 

"Yep!"

"You mean to say you'd leave me stuck between a..." She slapped each wall in turn, "- rock and a hard place?"

She even paused for comedic delivery. 

Blake's tail curled up, and her nose crinkled, attempting to hide the tiny smile caught between cringe and laughter, 

"You know what? For that, just there, I _am_ going to leave you behind!"  
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Yang grunted with the effort, beginning to maneuver again,

"No, you won't!"

"Yes, I would!" Blake shimmied out the last bit into the street, popping her head back into the crevasses, calling, "- Look... This is me leaving!"

Leaning back against building she waited a little to the left, out of sight, dusting off her clothes to the chorus of the barmaid calling her name and making double speed, shuffling and scraping through the narrow pathway.

The Cerebani enjoyed the slight look of bewilderment on the blonde's face as she looked around the fairly busy street, only disappearing when she spied the familiar cloaked figure.

Yang swaggered over, making a huge display of brushing the dirt off her chest and ass. The infuriating smug smirk was back,

"See.. Knew you wouldn't.... You like me too much!"

Blake pushed herself off the wall,

"Bit full of yourself, aren't you?"

Taking back the pot, Yang sing songed, 

"You know it's true... Yooou like meee... Yooou think I'm funnnny!" 

"No, I don't!" 

"Yes, you do!"

With a small smile, Blake plucked a twig out of the barmaid's hair letting it fall to the ground,

"You don't know me."

"But I'd like to!"

Blake blinked slowly, and Yang's self satisfied smirk widened.

The thief pulled the hood of her cloak further down to shroud her face in shadow and hide how she caught her lower lip between her teeth.

_How could Yang be so bold? So confident to just put her wants out there? Was it something she herself was lacking? Or was it just an aggravating trait of blondes who were more than easy on the eye, swanning through the world carefree open to any possibility, willing to grab them with both hands? _

Feeling along a doorpost with expert fingers, she read the notches and carvings, giving herself something to do rather than acknowledge the teasing gaze of her companion. 

Sensing another pair of eyes, that had nothing to do with Yang, she scanned the street, spying what looked to be a small grubby boy wrapped in layers on the corner moving three cards under and over each other in quick succession adding flares very similar to one person in particular who favored Three Dragon Ante.

The Eastbarrow area of town was sometimes affectionately referred to as Pocketsburn by the locals due to the nature of the trade plied there.

Scrubbed residential, squashed in besides stores that offered clothing and implements, taverns and boarding houses for the weary, and establishments of negotiable affection, the buildings a mixture of wattle and dorb, wood and stone, the street lanterns not quite the brightest and spaced a little further apart than normal lending their light to the overall allure. 

It was a place usually reserved for freshly arrived soldiers, sailors, mercenaries for hire and adventurers passing through looking to restock or spend some of their hard earned coin.

It was bright and lively with music from travelling bards drifting out of ajar doors and windows enticing revelers off the street. 

Deemed the entertainment quarter, it's reputation occupied the space nestled in between 'not quite as shady as Falseham' and 'no where near as nice as Shroudgulf.' though it did nothing to deter the residents of Cliffbury Mews of frequenting the area when the fancy took them to seem daring and bold, wishing to rub shoulders with swashbuckling sea captains and hear tales of dashing adventure.

They often stood out like sore thumbs in their expensively tailored outfits, in and amongst the battled scarred habitues. Here broad green orcs intermingled with elves, willowy by comparison. Dwarves carrying backpacks casually chatted with trolls. Monks, evident by their vestments or hairstyles, engaged with gaily colored teiflings and scantily clad Gillets and Wrens who flirted with passing potential customers. 

It was an often hotly contested area amongst the urchins due to the pickings that could be gleaned often culminating in outbreaks of fights in the darker alleys. The City Watch patrols were few and far between, handsome taxes and licensing fees helping to grease the wheels and allowing the residents to sort out their own disputes, unless things threatened to get out of hand. 

Second to her beloved rooftops, it was Blake's favorite place.

If eyes could shine, then Yang's were like the most exquisite gem stones reflecting back the flickering light from the lamps as she tried to drink in the atmosphere all at once. 

If Blake was prone to sentimentality, _ which she wasn't_, she would etch the look on Yang's face into the finest of parchment and keep it in her coin purse. 

"What is this place?"

"It's Eastbarrow....You've never been?" 

The barmaid shook her head, gold tresses bouncing and catching the light, 

"Not had the chance."

The Cerebani woman regarded her thoughtfully. 

_ How could she have not visited Eastburrow? It was incredibly popular with the citizens of Dame's Point. Everybody had a tale to tell in their arsenal of stupid things they had done._

"Have you been living under a troll?"

"No... Just been busy with helping my Dad with the tavern and raising Ruby."

Blake had to grab her traitorous tail before it wrapped round Yang's wrist of it's own accord.

Crossing over the street, the thief made a beeline for the card hustler on the corner. For a brief second he looked like he was about to bolt, hurriedly scooping up the battered cards until Blake held out one of the small soft rolls from the makeshift knapsack. 

His eyes grew wide beneath the brim of a shapeless cap and he licked his lips in anticipation, grimy fingers poking out from finger-less gloves that were a little too large for him.

His smell was a little over powering but recognizable. Behind her, she heard Yang make a sound in the back of her throat. 

The blackened length of his nails and the greenish pallor to his skin screamed goblin in his ancestry. She peeled back the brim of his filthy cap just a little, and asked with playful familiarity,

"Hokt, is that you under there?" 

He grinned showing off twisted razor sharp teeth, with some missing. 

Doffing the brim of the cap back down much like an older sibling, she held the loaf just out of reach,

"Whose running the Billaboys these days?

His wiped at his nose with the back of his glove, 

"WhOse aRskin?"

Tantalizingly, she wiggled the bread,

"The one with the loaf!"

"SAndswOrthy!"

Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, her eyes beginning to water and the wax in her ears starting to bubble from being in such close proximity to the stench,

"Tell Sandsworthy, _ The gutter is cleaner than the richest man's bathtub._"

His overly large eyes winked, snatching the loaf, 

"I mAke sure they heArs." He tucked the bread inside his coat out of sight, peering round Blake, "- Friend.PersOn Of yOurs?"

Blake cast a look back at the barmaid who had retreated a good distance, hand covering over the lower half of face and yet watching the pair slightly puzzled.

A coy smile spread across the thief's face, 

"Never you mind."

He shuffled closer, tugging on her pant leg to regain her attention,

"- Smell dirty...... HeArd Ole fOur eye set yOu lAntern bOOm bOOm?" 

The Cerebani gave him a light cuff round what she guessed was an ear, 

"Oi! She hears you talking like that there'll be nothing left of you to say sorry."

"Oww. thAt urt!"

"Well don't be running your mouth disrespecting her. And _No_ I haven't been burnt!.... Now go tell Sandworthy. Thankyou." 

Hokt gathered the cards and tucked the thin board he used as a table under his arm. As he scuttled off down the backstreet, she yelled after him, 

"And have a wash sometime soon!"

He yelled back, 

"It AgAinst my religiOn!"

Then he disappeared round the corner out of sight.

Blake found herself the focus of a look she couldn't quite decipher from the blonde who still remained at a safe distance, pot resting on one hip. 

It was a mixture of soft and questioning pity and Blake didn't like it one bit . 

She wiped the thin layer of grease on her fingertips gained from Hokt's cap on her cloak.

Yang pursed her lips. 

"What?" Blake asked.

Blonde eyebrows raised innocently, 

"Nothing!"

"You look like you want to say something."

Bringing the pot back to the front in both hands, Yang began to move off, 

"Was that a goblin?"

"Why? Got a problem?"

"No! Not at all."

Blake stared at her, unblinking. Yang lowered her voice, 

"He kind of smelt rather... Pungent."

Blake's voice took on the tone used by the ranked nobles and residents of Cliffbury Mews, 

"Oh my!" She mockingly lay a hand on her chest, "- I had no idea I was in the presence of a Laaaadyeee..." She dramatically bowed with a flurry of her cloak, "- My sincerest of apologies if the aromatic musk of rapscallions offends your delicate sensibilities!"

From under her hood she grinned like a dragon, all gleaming fangs.

_If the princess thought that smelled foul, then she had no idea of the world she lived in._

X-X-X-X-

The rest of the journey passed by uneventfully as the pair traversed out of Eastbarrow, down the wide tow path that snaked along a canal and over a rickety plank that made a make shift bridge. 

Coming upon the ramshackle lean-tos and patched together hovels with their buckled rooves where the Scalies and those too poor to find shelter elsewhere lived, Blake spun around, holding out her arms announcing loudly, 

"Welcome to Bleakbrook!"

It was a name given out of spite rather than any sort of misplaced affection.

Blake half expected Yang to pick her way through the dirt and the mulch with barely bridled disgust, but instead the blonde strolled through as if it was the same as any plaza in the affluent parts of the city. She didn't wrinkle her nose or pull a face when they passed figures trying to warm themselves at the numerous open fires. And she even went so far as to nod in greeting at those who uncharacteristically took notice of their passing. Yet the Cerebani woman did notice when blonde eyebrows raised in concern at the cries of a colicky infant or when they passed a man on crutches missing his legs and a dirty bandage over one eye.

A group of children made up of a mixture of races sped past, laughing and shrieking, chasing each other riding sticks between their legs, their gait mimicking that of galloping horses. Some had even made reins from string or twine. Nearly all bare foot and wearing threadbare and repaired hand me down clothes. A large green scaled dragonborn chased them, roaring for effect, much to the children's shrieked delight. 

Blake had to grab Yang by the elbow, pulling her out of the way of the would be knights and adventurers before she became collateral damage in a raging war of make believe. 

Taking the quickest route, weaving this way and that between the sheds and hovels, they arrived at the place Alulk called home.

Blake motioned for Yang to stop and wait as she gingerly opened the door. 

The heavy bank of fetid air hit like a Goliath brawler, nearly knocking the nasally sensitive Cerebani on her ass. She tried not to choke on the stench. Over the months, she had almost grown used to the Gnoll's natural smell or flatulence, but this was far from what she expected. It was dampness and decay intermingled with body odor and other things she dare not think about.

Nobody had thought to leave the door open or draw back the scrap of cloth from the window covered in slats. And the heat of the day beating down on the wood and tarps had only served to make it worse.

_ Oh please by the Gods, don't let this be the day._

Trying to hide the waver in her voice, she timidly called out,

"Alulk?.... Are you awake?" The darker lump on the pallet bed didn't move. She took a trepidatious step into the hazy gloom, heart hammering in her chest, softly uttering "- Alulk? "

A low rumbling snort emanated from the pallet bed and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

"It's me, Blake!"

Casting her gaze round the drab and pathetic interior she was thankful that someone laid fuel by the firebrazier, but faltered at the overflowing bedpan bucket. Swallowing her anger that he had been left here how ever long alone with the mess after she had been given assurances to his care, she waited until he rolled over, his rounded bald ears twitching towards her before approaching the pallet bed.

"You gave me a fright, old lad."

His milky eyes, unseeing and unable to find her, he reached out with a gnarled paw. His tone tinged with shame damn near broke her heart, 

"I had a bit of an accident."

Taking his paw, she gave it a gentle squeeze, giving a soft reassurance, 

"It's ok... It's not your fault."

He sniffed, mournfully in broken Regular,

"Am sorry... I couldn't feel the stones and I really had to go. Sorry."

A long shadow cast through the open door into the squalid place, Yang's form framed by the light, 

"Everything ok?"

Blake hurriedly covered up the frail old Gnoll, to give him some sort of dignity,

"We're fine!" She snapped. 

_ Why couldn't the nosy barwench do as she was asked?_

Alulk's ears swiveled towards the sound of the new voice, slightly bewildered,

"Whose that?"

"I'm Yang.. A friend of Blake's."

The blond entered the hovel, uninvited, putting down the pot on the nearest flat surface. Hands on her hips, she cast a critical gaze round the tiny space yet she spoke as if she had known Alulk for years, " - Brought you a bit of dinner."

Alulk sniffed the air, in the intruder's direction, 

"It smells nice."

He tried to look at Blake, ears flitting to and fro. 

Grabbing the nearest chair, Yang hefted it as if it didn't weigh anything at all, taking it out through the door. 

Giving Alulk's liver spotted paw a reassuring gentle pat, Blake followed the busy body outside. 

"Ah, what are you doing?" She hissed,

Trying to find the best spot to take advantage of the last of the evening sunlight before it gave way to night, Yang replied as if she was a cretin, 

"I'm helping you. What does it look like?" 

"You don't have to!"

With about as much wiggle room as a barmaid in a ginnel in Eastbarrow, Yang stated matter a factly,

"We aren't leaving him like this and two pairs of hands are better than one." Blake threw her a quizzical look, which she ignored choosing instead to go back into the hovel,"- Its a really nice evening, would you like to sit outside for a little bit. Get some sun on your bones?"

From outside, Blake heard Alulk reply, 

"I'd like that. Along as it ain't too much trouble?"

Busying herself, turning and beating some shape into the lumpy cushions, her features became pinched when on the cusp of hearing, she thought she heard a laugh and giggle from within. 

It had taken her weeks to illicit even the sparsest conversation out of him. It turned into a full blown scowl when Yang carried him bridle style out of the door and very carefully placed him on the newly fluffed seat as if he was the most precious of cargo.

She found it increasingly difficult to remain peevish in the face of Yang's patience and warm demeanor as she fussed making sure he was comfortable. Alulk turned his face to the sun, basking in the warmth smiling a gummy grin. 

Next, Yang came out, holding the bedpan bucket at arms length, 

"Where does this go?"

Taking it from her, Blake hunted around for an old scrubbing brush she had salvaged at some point long ago before leaving. She emptied the contents in the correct place, then went to the nearest water source, scrubbing the bucket trying not to growl at how this was her umpteenth bedpan of the day before filling it and making her way back. 

In some sort of unspoken agreement, the two women worked in tandem, the brunette washing Alulk as best she could with a cloth and water from the bucket whilst Yang bustled about making a hellish racket inside. 

Poofs of smoke curled out of the twisted chimney spout and the smell of food wafted from within.

Very gently drawing the damp cloth over the brackish skin of his protruding ribs, Blake tried to ignore the mounting abashment rising in her chest almost making it difficult to breath. So lost in thought, she almost didn't hear the old Gnoll, 

"She seems like a nice girl.... Not a bad choice for a mate."

The cloth in her hand stuttered, droplets of water tracing tracks down his skin. Rolling her chin and setting her jaw, she replied indignantly, 

"She's not my girlfriend."

He grinned affably, 

"The nose never lies."

Blake replied a little more forcefully, gently wiping the inherent droplets intent on making an escape further down,

"She _not_ my girlfriend!"

Blake's cheeks burned bright red and her tail doubled in size as Yang took that opportune moment to come outside with a plate of food.

"What's that about girlfriends?"

Casting her gaze skywards, the Cerebani willed the Gods to create a hole in the ground to the abyss or a double fork of lightening to smite her where she squatted.

"Nothing.... Nothing at all.. You misheard!"

The knowing smirk on the blonde's face told Blake that in this instance her skills of deception were useless.

Yang had wrapped the warm plate in the cloth from the tavern-pot and guided Alulk's paws to it and the wooden spoon with feather light touches. She helped him sip water from a tin when he asked, and delicately wiped at his chin when some escaped.

Blake watched in fascination, the tip of her tail lazily swishing, as Yang and the ancient Gnoll talked like old friends swapping filthy jokes. 

He spun his yarn about being from far beyond the swells of the known sea, about his days in a glittering army and things he had seen. Yang, in turn, regaled him with the story of how she had cold cocked a runaway thief with a tea tray not but a few days previously, whilst the thief in question bristled and glowered.

It was the most animated, she had seen him in weeks and she willingly took the teasing from him about being so easily caught.

The open fires illuminated the night as embryotic pinks and oranges faded to light purples on the horizon, and the double moons climbed into the sky.

Alulk shivered in the cooling breeze that drifted down from the water's edge. 

"I think I'm ready to go to sleep now."

He sounded almost childlike.

Getting under one of his arms, Blake began to help him back to his home. She stopped when he held back, 

"Thank you... The meal was lovely." 

He reached out searching for the barmaid. She took his paw and the pair helped him through the door, taking their time with his shuffling gait, and on to the pallet bed.

The fire was well lit in the battered barrel. Through the jagged cuts in the metal the languidly curling bright red and green flames played like a kaleidoscope on the surfaces lending their colors to make it cosy. The scrap of cloth at the window had been replaced and it looked like the pallets had been flipped over and rearranged to take full advantage of the heat. Nearby, on an upturned crate, pebbles had been laid out by descending size in a trail to the tavern pot full of fatty fare, beside which sat Blake's previously pocketed rolls and the others with holes in retrieved from the bottom of the scraps.

A low deep soothing rumble began in her chest and she tried her best to swallow it, when Alulk's ears flickered. He chuckled,

"You ain't fooling anyone." 

"Hush you." She murmured affectionately. 

Behind her, Yang began bringing in the furniture and arranging the bedpan nearby. 

Blake gently guided Alulk's paws to the bounty on the side,

"Here, " She said softly, "- You feel that?" He chuffed, fingers ghosting over the surface, " - There should be enough if you get hungry in the night, and stuff on the side to keep you going for breakfast, in case I can't make it in the morning."

Yang handed over the thin blanket. It was crisp and toasty from being by the fire. Blake appreciated how an attempt had been made to get rid of the stiffness. Lovingly, she tucked him in, waiting as he wriggled to get comfortable.

She was taken aback when Yang moved into the space, pressing a light kiss in between his twitching ears, 

"May Iwone bless your dreams, old warrior."

Blake swallowed hard at the tenderness of it. 

His breath shallowed, intermittently broken by whistles as he settled, a contented smile on his face.

Quietly, the women crept out of the small shed and out into the cool air, very gently closing and securing the door.

Overhead birds pinwheeled and twinkling stars began to dot the creeping deep blue canopy that sought to wrap the day in it's blanket.

Yang slipped her hand into hers, and Blake could feel the slight callouses and bumps along her fingers and palms. 

"Are you busy tonight?"

"I may have plans." She lightly teased, "Why?"

"Bring me to Eastbarrow and let me buy you a drink."

"Now?"

Yang knuckled a stray strand of hair out her face,

"Yes... If that's ok?... I mean... If you're not too tired. Or.."

To watch her be so bashful was almost endearing. Blake crinkled her nose in indecision.

_Oh, it would be foolish, nay even folly. But this idiot human owed her a blade ._

Or so she told herself as she molded her palm in Yang's with a smile and softly breathed, 

"Please."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a ..... i dunno.... A holy hot mess of a chapter.. .. 
> 
> And far from my best. I'm really sorry, folks.
> 
> But lets call it fun.
> 
> At this point, im afraid i might be burned out.  
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The wide cobbled streets of Eastbarrow were alive with people of all races and rungs of society. More so here than any other part of Dame's Point Landing. Boiled leather armor rubbing alongside finely tailored cloaks and even finer armor. Sheepskin boots treading beside supple leather ones and the winking of weapons galore. 

Wrens and Gillet's called out to soldiers, sailors and burly armed adventurers of either sexes with enticing offers of an evening's company no matter Orc, Elf, Human or Dwarf. 

If words and turns of phrase were enough to make a Sister of the Divine blush, then their outfits, or rather lack there of, would have them positively scandalized and running to the nearest temple.

Performers in the street juggled and breathed fire. 

One rather gangly, threadbare and young looking Mage was attempting to wow a small crowd with his feats of magic, creating ethereal creatures as if from thin air. Winged fish made of colorful light, swam through the street on an invisible river, leaving motes of awe in the eyes of the assorted pockets of people who lingered. At the crowd's edges, small children with fast hands and even quicker fingers, grabbed what they could before scarpering back into the shadows offered by the alleyways.

From the open windows and doors of the taverns wafted sumptuous smells of cooking or bawdy lyrics that would have the aforementioned Sisters of the Divine hastening their ministering in time to save a soul or two.

Hand still firmly clasped in Yang's, the cloaked and hooded Cerebani woman weaved their way through the throngs of people, blending in with the others who wished to enjoy the festivities. The heat from Yang's hand burned her own in a way that she suspected had nothing to do with the balmy evening. And yet, she couldn't bare the thought of letting go. 

It was simply because she didn't want to run the risk of the Eastbarrow virgin getting lost, or so she told herself.

They passed a filthy looking vagrant whose hair flamed red in the flickering light, a cat wrapped round his shoulders and beside him, what looked like a hooded child. Blake thought she caught saucer wide bright yellow eyes peering hungrily from the depths of the hood into the shadows of her own cloak. 

Blake pulled her cloak a little tighter around herself to discourage anyone from attempting to fleece her. Many an awkward altercation had occurred when two pickpockets had tried to ply their trade on each other and usually the thieves and urchins could spot their own kind, but it did nothing to be careless and advertise. 

She made a quick and barely discernible sign, curling the ring finger of her right hand in and turning the palm out.The child's eyes seemed to get wider and their step faltered before the vagrant gently took the child's bandaged wrapped slender hand, leading it away.

A commotion to the left had Yang pressing into Blake's back, her other hand creeping round the Cerebani's waist, holding her close, when an rather small for it's race pale Goliath, and a Troll burst out of the door of the Grangen Stomp, each with a small rider on their broad shoulders poking at the other with a fashioned together pike made up of a mop handle accompanied by yells of encouragement and laughter from other punters who followed.

Yang laughed out loud at their antics as they charged each other, wrestling with their hands, trying to push each other back over the street, whilst the halfling and dwarf rained down blows on the opposition. 

An enterprising long dark haired male elf called out, 

"Place your bets!

People scrambled to be part of the action.

Resting her chin on Blake's shoulder, Yang yelled over the din of the would be wrestlers,

"This is crazy!...... What are they doing?"

Blake almost didn't hear it, far too distracted by the way the barmaid's body was pressing and easily molded into hers, or how her heady and intoxicating aroma still lingered underneath the whiff of Alulk and a day's work. Afraid she might relax into it and having a sudden need for space and air, Blake broke out the embrace, spinning on her feet, 

"It's called 'weasel poppin',- "She continued to walk backwards, "- Who ever gets pushed out the circle, falls over loses. Rider falls off, its an automatic win."

Yang followed, casting glances back, 

"Will they not get hurt?"

"Nah. Not too badly. They'll pull each other up and buy each other drinks afterwards. No harm, no foul usually."

Catching up, Yang strolled beside her, 

"Is it always this busy?"

Blake frowned, 

"Sometimes. It must be the weather."

Passing by, The Paramour's Persuasion, they edged round a large group of men in matching colored justacorps with no visible insignia who were waving up at a few scantily clad Wrens hanging out of the upper windows, blowing kisses and giggling with each other.

And this time it was Blake's turn to hook a protective arm through Yang's when one of the men's head spun round, following the blonde with a leering grin.

_Fuck off, Asshole!_

Over her shoulder, Blake gave him the middle finger before expertly encouraging her companion to take a swift right into a small bustling plaza and melting into the crowd.

-X-X-X-X-

Coming under a swinging sign with a crude depiction of a Groutling's head, Blake smiled broadly, 

"Here we are!"

Yang stood back, appraising the building with it's flickering torches on either side of the open door, 

"Is this your common?"

"Something like that.... I know a guy."

The barmaid tucked her hands into her armpits, with a teasing grin, 

"Oh.... You know a guy?..... Should I be je..."

From inside a bawdy song erupted, 

_ .... O Molly of the Narrows was such a filthy flirt, she led me to stables by the collar of my shirt._

_Traaa laaa, Traa lee O gentle sir, I   
in truth must say. I aint the sort of lass to roll on in the hay._

_Traa laa, Traa lee O gentle sir, not until ye paaay!_

_O' Molly of the Narrows, how much I hear you ask? Lets just say for a gold or two, she'll show you her ass!_

The sound of tankards banging off the tables and loud cheers followed as Blake covered her face with her hands. Calloused fingers wrapped round her own, gently peeling them back a little ways as Yang peered through them her tone still teasing,

"Molly of the Narrows sounds like such a lovely girl." 

Hiding her blush, Blake avoided the mocking lilac eyes by ducking through the door. Behind her, she heard Yang yell over the din, 

"Oooo, lookit you... Showing your's for free!"

Blake stalled for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose.

_Fucks sake! Please by the Gods, give me strength!_

Swinging back round, she rolled her eyes,

"Shut up..."

Inside the small tavern was doing a very brisk trade, nearly every table and chair filled with bodies. In the far corner on a tiny raised stage, a bard plucked away on a mandolin whilst beside her was a halfling tapping out a beat on a wooden produce crate and few others playing the spoons.

It was positively sweltering inside. The only respite, a cool breeze that drifted from the direction of the bar.

Easing her way towards its source, she intermittently cast a look back to make sure Yang was hot on her heel. 

Blake noted how at ease she was, knowingly exactly where to step when a punter seemed unsteady on their feet swayed like the masts of the ships in the wharf. Or how she weaved under brawny arms gesticulating in the middle of a grand narrative for emphasis.

Spying shaggy bright blonde hair, Blake shouted to be heard, 

"Hey!"

Bright blue eyes lit up and his face broke into a wide toothy smile as Sun's gaze landed on her, 

"BLAKE!"

He filled up tankards, slipping them on to the bar and taking the coin from the punter, 

"What brings you here?"

"Brought a friend..." She pressed herself closer to the wood as a hulking orc in boiled leather armor littered in studs apologized profusely trying to squeeze past. Blake continued, "- She's an Eastbarrow virgin, so what other place to bring her?"

"You definitely brought her to the right place."

Behind her, the small Cerebani woman felt Yang step close, a light hand resting at the small of her back. 

"Yang, Sun. Sun Yang."

Sun tossed his head in an attempt to get his hair out of his face. She watched as he pursed his lips in a way that he thought made himself look handsome, he held out a hand,

"Hello, I don't think we've met..... I'd remember a pretty face like yours."

Blake rolled her eyes so hard she was afraid they might pop out of her head and she would have to go searching for them on the tavern's floor.

Reaching over Blake's shoulder, Yang took the offered hand, giving it a hefty shake. The brunette noticed how the sinews on Sun's forearm popped and how he flexed his hand a little when the barmaid let go.

"Got one abyss of a grip on you there!"

Arm still resting on Blake's shoulder, Yang replied offhandedly, 

"Occupational hazard, I guess?".

Bright blue eyes flittered between Yang's arm and Blake's face, 

"Oh, yeah.... And what is it you do?"

"Barmaid over at The Bear and Sickle."

"Never been but heard good things, I'll be sure to check it out sometime,- " He busied himself, wiping a tankard with a cloth. He smiled slyly, "- So, how do you know Blake? She's never mentioned you before."

Wanting to head off the line of questioning and whatever was brewing, Blake slapped her hand on the counter, 

"Two ales, please. good Sir!"

With an arm still casually resting over Blake's shoulders, the blonde leaned her elbow on the bar, finger playing at her bottom lip in a way that drew Blake's attention,

"Is that Cullane's Honey Comb?"

Filling up a tankard and sliding it onto the counter towards the thief, Sun wiggled his eyebrows, 

"Sure is!.... Ain't no better way to start an Eastbarrow cherry popping!"

Yang arched an eyebrow,

"Oh, I was saving this my cherry for a special occasion... Spend it with the right person or people...Ya know, to get the full experience."

Swallowing a long draft of sweet ale in a bid to cool herself that had nothing to do with the sweltering heat in the bar, Blake caught the crafty smirk playing at Yang's lips.

Pushing herself way from the counter, Blake announced, 

".. And on that note, I am going to find a table!"

Yang let out a boisterous laugh and under the Cerebani's hood her ears instinctively swiveled towards it.

Finding a spot at the end of a table with a human and a gnoll, who the rest of the punters were giving a wide berth, Blake slid onto the bench, drawing her swishing tail into her lap and making sure to cover it with the ends of her cloak, and took to observing the room. The atmosphere was jovial and lively, a testament to the day's pleasant weather and how some much needed sunshine could do wonders for the soul.

A drunken elf was face down on one of the tables, beside them a dark skinned human deep in conversation with a dwarf who was pouring over what looked like a map. At another table a greenish grey female orc and a deep blue teifling staring intensely at a game of Nation's and Kingship. The orc was trying to defend Boras as best she could in the face of an advancing Yeshjani archers defended by a troll siege wall.

The Bard and her troupe were taking a break, nibbling at a plate of fruits and cold meats, clinking their tankards of ale.

A slight, well toned brown woman covered in white scars dressed in blue and a hair cut that suggested she was a monk, was regaling a group of sailors of mixed genders with exploits of how she has received each one speaking in regular with a thick accent and fingers moving in rapid sign. Some of the sailors, who had colorful tattoos snaking over their arms, sat enraptured whilst others laughed, claiming they were tall tales worthy of a performer and questioning her to find the lie. 

In the far corner sat a tall muscular woman so pale no one would be wronged for mistaking her for a ghost, with a dark line from her bottom lip down underneath her chin, sat reading a book. Her hair was a nest, going from black fading out to white at the tips. Back against the wall, she had one fluffy knee high boot wrapped in black straps in the style favored by fighters and barbarians casually resting on the other knee. 

Occasionally, she would lick her finger to turn the page, sharp mismatched eyes scanning the room until they landed on the monk only to recommence reading, or take a long sip from a metal tankard normally reserved for Goliaths or trolls. On the table lay a great sword, that was almost as tall as she was, beside a staff and a backpack. 

Catching her eye, Blake gave a tight lipped smile and received a frown.

Beside her, snippets of conversation between the human and the gnoll drew her attention.

".... the Thadlien?"

".... snuffed the battlefield... Let's... doesn't insp.... deserting in droves.... upping their price."

The gnoll spat,

"Nuthin more..... Shorebreast soldier wiv no master...... hankering for... ."

"Mark my words..... long before they start com....., there'll be a ruckus..."

".... we not be..... for that, ey?"

A tankard landing on the table heralded Yang's arrival.

"Your boyfriend said he'd join us after he's finished."

Knitting her brow in confusion, Blake rushed to correct her, waving her hands,

"No..No .. No.... He's not my boyfriend." 

Lilac eyes crinkled at the corners and Blake couldn't shake the feeling that she was being sized up somehow. She continued, 

"I swear, he's _not!,_. Why? What did he say?"

Broad shoulders shrugged and the barmaid's lips moved but thief couldn't hear what she said over the rambunctious roar of laughter from a group of grizzled older men propping up the corner of the bar. With tankard raised covering her mouth, Yang looked around, doffing her head in the direction of the reading specter in the corner and receiving a silent nod of acknowledgement. 

Wriggling down the bench to make room, Blake leaned forward on her elbows, 

"You know her?"

Taking the invitation the barmaid sat astride the bench, the leather flaps of her skirt parting showing off toned honey suckle colored thighs. Rearranging a few to cover her modesty, she shuffled a little closer, 

"Nope.... Why?" Leaning forward she flashed a leering grin, "- Want me all for yourself?"

Wanting to wipe that smug grin off the infuriating woman's face, she rose to the challenge turning a little ways in her seat, invading the barmaid's personal space. Nose inches from each other, Blake enjoyed how Yang's long eyelashes fluttered, how her full lips parted when she spoke like sultry velvet, 

"I believe it was _you_ who asked _me_ out for drinks."

The sickle of a smirk playing at the upturned corners of her lips, was unexpected, so was the way the blond purred, 

"I'll admit I had an ulterior motive."

Ears twitched back under the hood and the tip of Blake's tail rapidly swished to and fro though clamped to her thigh with a hand. The movement drew Yang's gaze for a minuscule second before returning to rove over her face. 

"And what would that be?"

The blond tilted her head and continued to claim territory. This close Blake could count each individual eyelash, pick out constellations in the smattering of light coloured freckles and the thought that she wanted the opportunity to name each one began to creep in. Within the lilac irises there dwelt flecks of gold that no dwarf could mine or rogue trade.

That soothing smell invaded her senses and the smooth patch of skin on her neck, that looked like butterscotch, a winking enticement open to claim.

Blake licked her lips.

Flustering images, gossamer whispers of a dream lapped at the edges of thought and the sound in the bar seemed to fade out.

_I'm in trouble here._

She could feel the ghost of hot air on her own lips and her skin goosebumped when Yang breathed, 

"By Iwone."

Unwilling to retreat from this strange game of chicken, Blake pressed,

"What?"

"Your pupils are massive!.... I can see myself in them."

Every thought that Blake had carefully crafted imploded, a strangled garbling escaping her throat, when Yang's smirk morphed into a knowing smile, causing the sundapples to dance across her cheeks much in the way of the butterflies that resided in Blake's stomach.

Her face burning, she admitted defeat breaking off their staring contest surprised to find Sun standing there with a tray of drinks in hand. She caught a flash of a tight lipped grimace that disappeared in an instant, replaced with a breezy grin.

He took a seat on a bench opposite them and Blake hurriedly quaffed her drink avoiding his searching gaze.

"What you talking about?"

Yang, replied, 

"I was telling Blake, I had an ulterior motive for coming with her."

There was a slight edge to his voice that Blake had never heard before. 

"Oh yeah.... And what's that?"

The barmaid swirled the stein in her hand, 

"I wanted to know if there was any truth to the yarn she spun me the other day. Or whether it was a pile of hot Orc shit!"

Head snapping round as sharp as riderless destrier, Blake asked, accusingly, 

"Seriously?"

Yang shrugged in reply. 

"What yarn did she apparently spin you?"

"Having friends who got squashed by sheep and blind old gnolls."

"Unfortunately, it's all true!"

Gritting her teeth, Blake growled, 

"What the fu.."

"Steady there, -" Resting a light hand on Blake's forearm, Yang offered, "- I wanted to know if you were lying before I offered you a job."

"A job?" Blake deadpanned. 

"Yeah....If the rumors are true, we could do with an extra pair of hands... Nora says you're a hard worker and Ruby seems to like you."

Blake's eyes narrowed suspiciously,

"Nora said that?"

"Yup! Ask her yourself, if you dare!"

"I don't believe you!"

Yang, flipped her hair, 

"Then don't!"

Sun laughed into his drink, 

"Pfffft....Blake.... A hard worker? .... That'll be the day!"

"Shut up, you!"

Yang held up her tankard, 

"How about it?... Promise I won't keep you too many hours... You can still go do what ever it is that you do.... As long as you ask if you need anything rather than steal."

Blake noticed Sun's eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

She pursed her lips, weighing up her decision, one long claw whittling along the edges of a whorl in the wood. She didn't appreciate the subterfuge nor the way that the butcher boy was watching her. But she had to admit that if in Yang's well made fluffy boots she might have done the same. 

Not that she had to admit it out loud or anything. 

_What harm could it do? It 'would' keep Sun off her tail for a little while at least and Miss Gladowhag would no doubt hear it on the thieves speak and maybe open up her doors sooner rather than later so Blake could get back to her normal life?_

But if Yang wanted an answer she would have to work for it. 

"I dunno,-" She drawled, claw still following the swirls in the marking of what had once been a fledgling branch in a tree of old, "- I'm a mighty busy person these days."

Sun said in a warning tone, side eyeing her, 

"Blake!"

Satisfied with the deep etches into the tables surface, she crossed her arms, 

"I have terms!"

Amused, Yang leaned back,

"Terms?"

"Yeah, terms.... Never heard of them?... Sailors and Pirates have them all the time."

There came an "Oi!" from a nearby table. 

"I know what terms are!.... And what _terms_ do you want, by Iwone tell?"

Blake tipped her head and sniffed with a pompous air like the nobles in Cliffbury Mews, 

"I want an apology!"

"An apology?"

"Yes!"

"For what?"

"For that!"

"You want me to apologize for trying to make sure someone, I don't know, who I met through stealing, might I add, wasn't hot Orc shitting me?"

"Yeah... Exactly...._And_ I want my blade back!"

For once the smugness was gone, replaced with bemused bafflement and a lack of words.

"Ooooo, -" Blake teased, "- Cat got your tongue?"

Placing the tankard on the table, Yang lazily stretched in a way that made her biceps bulge, drawing the eye of the scarred monk in a way that made Blake bristle,

"Alright..... How about I meet you half way?... You can have your blade back..... And I _don't_ apologize for looking out for my families business."

"Ok.... If you won't apologize then how about..." She finished her drink with a small burp, "- I don't have to scrub bedpans!"

"No can do.....Everybody has to scrub bedpans..... It's only fair!" She retrieved her stein, " - Look... We'll not ask you to do anything you're not ok with." Blake's face brightened and Yang hastily added, "- Apart from the bedpans.....And in return you'll make a bit of coin and our previous deal still stands.... Does that sound fair, to you?

Bracing his hands on the edge of the table, Sun stated,

"Sounds like a darn good offer to me."

The Cerebani looked between the blond barmaid with the raised ale stein and Sun, who gave an encouraging nod of his head, before reaching for a frothy mug on the tray. 

"Deal!"

Yang's face broke into a wide smile, knocking the lip of her stein against Blake's. 

Sun cheered and grabbed his own stein crashing them together in celebration so hard it was a wonder they didn't crack.

It was maybe the fourth or fifth cup in and Sun and Yang's third arm wrestle, the butcher boy screaming best of five, when a bunch of men in dirty matching justacorps without insignia stumbled through the door of the tavern.

Beside the celebrating trio, the gnoll and the human hastily collected their things and made a beeline for the door.

The group of rowdy soldiers took the newly vacated seats, moving so far along the bench that Blake was forced to squash up against Yang's thigh.

Rubbing his hands together, Sun rolled out his shoulders, shaking out his arms like a brawler in a fighting pit in the Narrows, 

"Come on.... Come on.. Best of five! ... LETS GO! LETS GO!"

Letting out a fake reluctant sigh, Yang held her hands out palms up, 

"Alright.. alright. alright... Sure.... If you want me to make you go screaming for your Mommy again!"

Both of them put their elbows on the table, hands clasped, knuckles going white from the pressure of pressing and testing each other. Blake was about to count down, just like she had the last three matches when a huge mass blocked out the light. 

All three of them looked up, Sun slightly pie eyed trying to focus. Standing at the tables edge was the pale hulking barbarian woman with her arms crossed over her chest and almost tiny in comparison, her monk companion peering round a bulging tricep. The monk seemed to gently prod the barbarian woman in encouragement, who rolled her mismatched eyes. She was surprisingly soft spoken and the celebrating trio had to strain to hear her, 

"My companion has been pestering me.-" The dark skinned scarred woman waved. "- To test your might against mine. Would you like to wager?"

Standing up, Sun puffed out his chest flashing his most charming smile, raking a hand through his blond locks, 

"Sure... What you go..."

One pale muscular arm swept him out of the way and she sat in his spot, resting her elbow on the table, large hand ready for Yang to take. Sun deflated, 

"Ok... then."

The monk smirked, 

"Don't take it personally. Mary doesn't mean anything by it. She just really wants to arm wrestle your friend!"

Yang clasped the barbarian woman's hand, both of them trying to get a get a good grip, 

"So you said wager?"

Resting her hands on the table, the monk snickered, 

"We aren't gonna be wagering..." She pointed with a finger, a wicked glint in her eye, at the soldiers and sailors, "-They are!" Pushing herself off the table, she yelled over the din, "- Whose looking to make coin?"

Patting her on the shoulder in a friendly way, Sun said, 

"Don't worry, I got this..... Might not be much an arm wrestler but I _am_ a showman.-" He hopped light of foot on the table, his voice ringing out clear, "- Ladies, Gentleman and everyone in between!..... Have we got an Eastbarrow treat for you.....Roll up for the arm wrestle of the decaaaade!..." The soldiers stopped mid conversation,"- Which one of these bone crushing beauties shall win? Who knows? But come on and get in on the action!... In the white corner...." He spun round pointing at the barbarian, "- We have the Pale Rider of Death! She's been known to crush a man's skull with her bare hands!" The sailors nudging each other began to move closer. "- In the yellow corner,-" He pointed at Yang, "- Is the Bear of Boras! Abandoned on the wild plains, she was raised on the teat of a direbear and imbued with it's strength!" 

Leaning towards, Blake, the barmaid murmured, 

"A fucking direbear orphan? Really?"

Sun continued, 

"If you'd like to place your best with my friend, -" He leaned down to the monk , whispering behind his hand, "- What's your name?"

"Tracie." The monk replied.

Without missing a beat, Sun was back on his spiel, 

"My friend, Tracie here!"

Mary leaned forward, shouting to be heard over the commotion of heavy footfalls, chairs scraping on the floor and loud shouts as bets were being hurriedly taken by Sun and Tracie, 

"Your friend would do really well in the pits, if he ever wanted to earn extra coin."

Most of the customers of the tavern were crowded round the table. One of the soldiers breath was so close, Blake could feel him pressing against her. 

Both the arm wrestlers took a hefty swig of their drinks. 

"You ready?"

"Yup, you?"

Tracie was massaging Mary's shoulders, 

"Come on, you can do this _bonecrushing beauty_!"

Holding up his hands, Sun called for quiet. You could almost hear a pin drop. He put his hands over the two women's, 

"We go on Go!, right? I want a clean game." Both women nodded. He let go, the crowd joining in, "- SHEARS! PARCHMENT! STONE!........GO!"

At first nothing really happened apart from two biceps suddenly bulging and forearms popping. 

They taunted and gourded each other passing pithy remarks as the crowd cheered on their chosen fighter. 

Arms shook and knuckles turned white with strain. For every zhali lost, which caused the crowd to either boo or cheer, it would be regained and the crowd's celebration or lamentation would swap with their counterpart.

Teeth gritted, sweat beaded on foreheads and veins pulsed in exertion. 

Blake felt a hand begin to snack up her back. She turned to glare at the culprit. Beside her the soldier smiled and she got a whiff of foul breath and alcohol. She scowled darkly, leaning away and the hand disappeared.

Beside her, Yang's golden hair began to get brighter as she lost a bit of ground. 

Tracie yelled, 

"Come on! Come on!"

Blake cheered,

"You an do this!"

Mary managed through gritted teeth, 

"... Like to Rage!"

She roared and the crowd began to explode when Yang lost ground. The barmaid's hair burst into flame and her eyes flashed red. 

"OOOOOOOH, SHIT BY THE DIVINE!" Sun shouted. And the crowd erupted!

Tracie's face was a perfect O and the barbarian momentarily lost concentration.

Yang pushed the advantage, grunting with the effort. The veins on Mary's now red mottled neck bulged as she roared again, 

"ARRRRRRGH!" 

Arms trembled and shook like the study boughs of the trees in Thornshade battered by a gale.

Yang tried to shift her stance, as Mary's height gave her the advantage. She pushed, Yang's arm slowly keeling over. 

Encouraging hoots and tankards banged off the table tops. For a second it looked like Yang might make a come back when her hair flared, gritting her teeth with the effort. The sinews on her shoulders and cords on her neck raised. 

Mary pressed on, 

Knuckles bashed off wood when Yang's supporting elbow gave way and the crowd went wild with cheers and boos. Grabbing the barbarian's hand, Sun raised it up. 

"We have a champion! The Pale Rider of Death WINS!"

Mary stood up, towering over Sun and the monk jumped onto her companions side, clinging like a monkey!

Blake gently rubbed the blonde's back in commiseration. Offering out her hand, Mary said, 

"Neat trick with the hair.... I'd say it was even if you hadn't already tired yourself out arm wrestling your friend here."

Taking it and giving a friendly shake, Yang replied, 

"I'll get you the next time!"

"Look forward to it..... Next round of drinks is on us for your troubles."

"Thanks.. That's really good of you."

"Only fair you get a bit of something."

Mary and Tracie went off into the crowd to collect their winnings and see to the bets.

-X-X-X-X-

Drinks arrived and the impromptu sport seemed to effect the punters as the sailors began to have their own feats and challenges amongst themselves, whilst the soldiers at the end of the shared table began to hit the cups rather heavy, their conversation becoming far lewder than was necessary, making comments about every woman in the tavern, raising Blake's hackles.

Again, Blake thought she felt a ghost of a hand hovering down her back. The second time it happened, dangerously close to where her tail rose up from her spine, she spun round, claws extended, to deal with the perpetrator, hissing, 

"Touch me again and you'll lose it!"

She got a face full of foul breath as the soldier laughed, 

"Calm down, sweetheart.... Was only having a bit of fun." 

One of his cohorts added, 

"Maybe you and your friend should come hang out with some real men."

The soldier began to flip and flick at the edges of her cloak, 

"What you got going on under there? Lets have a look at you!"

Instinctively, her ears flattened against her skulls and a loud warning growl erupted from her chest. 

"Stop fucking touching me!"

The group cackled like hyenas, 

"Oi!" Sun yelled, "- Leave her alone."

Quicker than Blake gave him credit for in his inebriated state, the soldier snaked out a hand grabbing her hood and tearing it down. Her hands flew to her head and she was relieved that he hadn't managed to pull down the scarf she used as a makeshift hood and revealing her ears.

Jumping up, Sun shouted, 

"Oi!" 

Chairs scrapped back on stone as the soldier's friends got to their feet, jeering, 

"We're Thadlien soldiers fresh from the fields of Boras, what you gonna do, runt?"

"Orcs have taken bigger shits than you, ya weedy pissant!"

In the corner a huge orc with boiled leather and studded armor slammed down his tankard. Getting to her feet, Yang drank some of her ale. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she fixed the soldier beside Blake with a glare, 

"She, Said. Leave her Alone." 

The soldier with the foul breath stood up,

"Ohhhh, do you wanna play instead?"

Holding up one finger, Yang commenced guzzling the ale, the column of her throat bobbing with each glug. She tipped her head back to get the rest, all eyes in the bar tensely watching as she swallowed the last mouthful. She let out a rip roaring belch that echoed and she placed the tankard upside down on the table, 

"Now, we can play!"

Reaching for the barmaid's arm, Blake admonished, 

"Yang.... You don't have to do this."

The foul soldier brushed her to one side, 

"Nah, nah, you didn't wanna play, so you don't get to.-" He looked the blonde up and down, "- Now you look tastee.... Why don't you come sit down over here and we gets to know each other." 

Yang smiled like a deep ocean predator, or what Blake thought one would smile like if she had ever seen one. It was all teeth with a hint of malice. Yang breathed coquettishly, flipping her long golden locks,

"Sure, Lets get personal."

His friends leered and snickered, one keeping his hand on Sun's chest holding him back. Like ropes on a plough's bracers, the tension in the tavern twanged as the soldier went to reach for Yang's hair with his left hand.

It was as if time and space rippled, the earth holding it's collective breath, there was almost an inaudible _pop_ when lightening fast Yang gripped his left wrist with her own, pulling him forward as her right came round in a fist, colliding with his jaw full force driving him into the ground.

A loud, wincing , "Ooooo" went through the tavern. Blake leapt backwards creating some space as the downed soldier tried to get up, hands grasping and missing the edge of the bench. He tried to stand on shaky legs. Speech slurred, a bloody tooth escaped his mouth, bouncing off the flagstones, 

"Youu ffvvvin Bitccch!"

He went as if to take a swing only to stagger back, one step, two step and collapsing backwards into another customer's table clattering through their ale and food, slipping to the floor and passing out. 

Yang looked genuinely disappointed, 

"Awww... This one's broken!"

Sun took the opportunity to shove one of the soldiers so hard they ricocheted off a huge Orc at the bar, who turned and snorted, 

"Which one of you fuckholes wants to dance."

All abyss broke lose.

Soldiers, Sailors, Tramps and Thieves dived on top of each other, fists and feet flying. Sun jumped on the the table, yelling, 

"STOOOOOP!-" Everybody froze, some in chokeholds, others in the process of having ears bitten off. "- NO WEAPONS! AGREED?.... THAT MEANS _YOU_ TAVERN BRAWLERS!"

One crestfallen halfling slyly put down a stool, pushing it under a table out of the way.

There came grumbles of agreement. 

"OK.... CARRY ON!" 

The tavern echoed with assorted battle cries and Sun dived off the table body-slamming a soldier to the ground where they began to tousle.

A heavy hand landed on Blake's shoulder. She spun round driving the heel of her palm upwards into the nose of a bleary eyed elf. To her right Mary and Tracie were back to back, grinning like maniacs trading blows with would be assailants. A body charged the Cerebani and she used their momentum to flip them over her shoulder. 

She caught a blow to the side of the head that sent her reeling backwards into strong hands that caught her under the armpits lifting her back to her feet. She looked back to find Yang, a welt beginning to blossom on her cheek.

"Lets get the abyss out of here!"

Overhead a dwarf swung off the candle chandelier, canonballing into a pile of bodies.

Working in tandem, ducking and diving, the barmaid throwing punches and Blake knicking at belts and swinging coinpurses, they slowly made the door of the tavern, out into the cooler air of the street.

"Where's Sun?" Blake yelled, adrenaline pumping. 

Peering back through the door, over a sea of tousling bodies, she spied Mary holding up a soldier by the throat, his legs dangling uselessly, trying to grip her immovable forearm,

"Over here!" Came the shout. 

From the side of the tavern, Sun appeared arms laden with three large bottles. Grabbing Blake's hand, Yang took off after him. The three of them dashed across the plaza shrieking with laughter, closely followed by the shattering of windows.

-X-X-X-X-

Careening round the corner they almost collided with a group of other revelers. Darting past them, Sun darted down another side street, Wrens and Gillets whooping at the trio. Yang pulling Blake along beside her. In the light her hair shimmered and colour was at her cheeks. They way delight and mirth crinkled at the corner of her eyes and upturned lips, spread a intermingled warmth and tightness in Blake's chest. 

Breathlessly, they ducked under an archway that led into a small courtyard, empty save for a few upturned abandoned crates and awnings. Blake gasped, 

"Where in Boras, were you?"

Pulling the cork out of one of the bottles, Sun took a swig, 

"Was getting provisions."

His tunic was torn at the neck almost to his chest and had dark maroon splotches on it. He offered out a bottle to each of the girls. 

Letting go of the Cerebani's hand, Yang collapsed onto a nearby crate, wincing a little. She used her teeth to remove the cork from the bottle spitting it into the gutter. Blake went to sit beside her only to have Sun swing an arm over the her shoulders, pulling her in close, laughing, 

"Did you see her, Blake?" He babbled excitedly, "- She was all _pow pow_ and decked him." He bounced away from her, fighting shadow puppets, "- And I was all like _kaaaaachar!... Upper CUT!_"

From within the depths of her cloak, Blake revealed a coinpurse, tossing it into the air and catching it with a tinkle,

"And we got paid!"

She threw it up again and Sun swiped it out of mid air, 

"Claimed!"

"Hey!"

Turning about, he announced, 

"Damages might come out my wages!"

Taking a slug of the bottle, Yang said, 

"We split it three ways. Give it back to her, for now."

Sun handed it back, and the thief hefted the weight of the purse in her hand,

"You're not mad I half inched it?"

"Nope.... We won it fair and square!"

Reaching out, Yang gently wrapped her fingers round Blake's wrist, unexpectedly pulling her sideways onto her lap. Losing balance, a squeak escaped the Cerebani woman as the barmaid wrapped her arms around her holding her steady,

"Soooooo, is my Eastbarrow cherry well and truly popped?"

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the adrenaline from the brawl but the Cerebani relaxed into her embrace, kicking her legs, cavalierly purring, 

"No, not by a long shot!"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I could think of a few things."

"Oh really?"

"If I remember correctly, an Eastbarrow cherry popping needs, a minimum of three things. 1, Get drunk!" 

Leaning against a wall, Sun roared, 

"DRINK!"

"2, Get in a fight. And 3.... Do something stupid, you'll never forget."

Yang looked in disbelief between the woman on her lap and the butcher boy, 

"Doesn't getting get drunk and starting a tavern brawl count?"

"No no no... A cherry popping is a special class of its own!... You can get drunk and start a tavern brawl anywhere! Eventually they just merge into each other after a while. But!..... An Eastbarrow cherry popping....You either break the law!"

Sun chanted, 

"Breaking the law! Breaking the law!"

Ignoring him, Blake continued, 

"Get a tattoo.... Visit the Gillets and Wrens and purchase their negotiable affection!"

"Always fun!" The butcher boy chimed. 

"Or get sign up for being crew of a ship!"

Sun added knowingly, 

"There's been many a lad gone missing after an Eastbarrow cherry popping!... Or maybe it's just after an honest cherry popping, come to think of it. "

"Have experience in that do ya?" Yang asked.

Sun seemed momentarily lost for words, trying to focus on the blonde, squinting,

"Ap apa. Pa... I'll have you know Missy... I've plenty of..."His eyes landed on Blake, " - Let's just a say... I've dated... And I have a past!"

Taking a long draft of her own bottle, Blake tried to pay attention to Yang as she laid out the things she was and wasn't willing to do. The red welt that marred her cheek looked like it was growing and the colour changing hue.

_It was semi her fault that her cheek was bruised and no doubt going to turn into a shiner. But Yang had thrown herself into danger! For_her_! This woman she barely knew had stood up for her in the face of overwhelming odds, without batting an eyelid! She couldn't bet that she would have done the same if the circumstances were reversed._

The hand that was resting, relaxed on her outer thigh, as if it always belonged there, emanated a heat she could feel through the fabric of her trousers.

Her tail swished in the cool night air, offering some respite. 

Her own hand reached out of its own accord, fingers landing lightly on the barmaid's strong forearm. Her fingers tracing feather light lazy patterns on skin that felt like silk. Underneath her, firm thighs clenched becoming solid like stone and Blake caught a tantalizing whiff of a wholly unfamiliar but not unpleasant scent.

Loudly, Sun broke her thoughts,

"So it's been decided then?"

"What has?"

"We're going breaking the law... Weren't you listening?"

"Sorry... I dimensioned out, I guess?"

"How drunk are you?"

"I'm kinda.. Meh!"

"Well catch up!"

To prove a point, Blake guzzle half the bottle as Yang's eyes grew wide watching her.

He grabbed her hand, half tugging and dragging in a way that had Blake struggling to get her feet underneath her but managing at the last second so she didn't land flat on her face.

"Come on!" He cajoled, "I know exactly what we can do!"

Leading her off down the laneway, she cast a look back to find Yang bringing up the rear, a look on her face that Blake couldn't decipher. She was about to ask when Sun chose that moment to wrap his arm round her shoulders guiding her onward.

-X-X-X-X-

_Dear reader, when its comes to the point of breaking the law, one must first look at the laws, who and what they are there to protect. If they are protecting the elite few, rather than the masses and protecting the hording of mass wealth, then those who are charged with administering justice have been found sorely lacking. _

_Unless of course the hoarder of such wealth is a Dragon, then back away very slowly, and as soon as you make it outside, book it and pay respects to any nearby Deities for not being turned into a pile of ash. _

_If you get a little singed, then you got off lightly!_

_I can not stress this enough,_

_DO NOT FUCK WITH DRAGONS!_

_If you fail to heed such solid advice and actively seek such an encounter, laboring under the idiotic notion that it will bring you glory and you'll be lauded as a hero, then you deserve everything that's coming to you! But be sure to leave a will and make arrangements for your horse._

_If the law is being abused by shady individuals with manure pit intentions, then in that instance it is not a case of breaking the law per-say, but rather a much needed challenging of the status quo and the institutions that try to enforce said unfair laws. _

_If what you're about to do is for the greater good, is it really breaking the law in the grand scheme of things in an unfair system?_

_How can one seemingly insignificant individual challenge the status quo and attempt to tip the scales in favour of those who have been grossly neglected and abused?_

_If you view said law loosely, finding the bow in a tied shoelace, then the law becomes something that can be bent rather than broken outright. _

_For example, Silverward sees what she does as not theft but rather, 'liberating items from being held against their will.' _

_If that item just so happens to find liberation in her trouser pocket, then that is the will of the Gods. (Or so she will tell you!)_

_Something of an expert in hostile take overs, Miss Gladowhag will tell you that is isn't theft but rather a case of something called 'trickle down Economics', if they just so happen to trickle into her coffers, then so be it and she will tell you that it is simply a case of something called 'Acquisitions and Math'._

_*Side note: Nobody should trust a language that swaps out numbers for letters willie nillie._

_What our trusty inebriated protagonist and her equally drunken cohorts had in mind was something of a liberation of sorts and in no decent creature's mind could be deemed, 'breaking the law.' _

_However, the City Watch might beg to differ!_

Weak flames flickered in the torches that were meant to illuminate the market place. Being so late in the evening, the square was empty. The bubbling of the fountain the only sound and it echoed throughout the vast space. 

Hidden in the shadows of a narrow ginnel where the torch light could not penetrate, the celebrating trio lay in wait seeking to glean the whereabouts of any lingering members of the City Watch or any other prying eyes that might wish to thwart them and they concocted a plan. At the far edge of the plaza, the raised dias loomed, on top two of the garish looking stocks were still occupied. 

It looked as if the sailor had either escaped or been let go.

The co-conspirators whispered, huddled together, shrouded by over hanging awnings and giving off an air of mystery. As always with drunken people and impromptu master plans, it was hotly debated,

"You sure about thish?"

"Yes.... They've been there since yesterday morning... It's not right!"

"What did they do?"

"Nothing.... They were arrested for existing."

"You sure?"

"I was here when the Orc shit charges were read out, _Breach of the Peace and Vagrancy!_ pppfttt _Breach of the Peace._ My left nipple!"

"How mucsh _hash_ you had to drink?"

"Is she always like this?"

"Only when she's gots her teeth into 'injustishe'!... Then it's besht to tag along for the ride and make sure she doeshn't get caught!"

"What if it was me up there? Then what, hmmm?"

"I'd make an heroic entranshe and gallantly free you from the shacklesh of tyranny and oppresshion, oh fair maiden!

"Done it often, have you?"

"Well, not exactly! But I did shave a merchant's daughter from being accoshted by a group of brutes once."

"And I'm sure he was mighty appreciative!"

"Not so much. Be she mosht certainly was! If catch my river?"

There came a reply, heavily laced with sarcasm,

"Ooooo, what a gentleman!"

It was lost upon the recipient.

"Folks... Can we _please_ get back on task!- " There came mumbles of apologies."- Sun... You keep watch... You remember the calls, right?"

"Yesh, Ma'am!" He tried to snap off a salute, only to hit himself in the forehead. "- Oww!"

Yang chuckled,

"Dumbass!"

"Shuuush!"

"Yang... Being you're the stronkest, you're wiv me.. In case I need you to punch somethin."

"And what are you gonna do?"

Blake revealed her dagger and the pilfered fork, 

"I'm gonna jimmy the locks!... If it goes belly up, where shall we meet?"

"The Bear and Sickle? ... You know where that is, oh gallant one?"

"Yussum!"

Sun took off into the darkness and the two women readied themselves for their approach. 

Skirting the edges of the torch light, they crept closer, Blake keeping low and moving fleet of foot, merging into the shadows with the help of her cloak. Behind her, Yang was surprisingly light on her feet. They darted to the fountain, crouching down, shielding themselves from prying eyes under the lip of the stonework. 

From somewhere they heard a screech of a disturbed cat and the clattering of someone colliding with a barrel, followed by an irate shout of someone rudely awakened. Both women cringed, pressing closer to their impromptu barrier when they heard a familiar voice shout a rather loud apology. Edging closer, Yang murmured, 

"Where on Nianerth did you find him?"

"Don't be mean.... He's not _that_bad!.. He's solid in a bind and has saved my tail on plenty of occasions."

Yang seemed unconvinced,

"Really?"

Maybe he just hadn't made a good first impression, and yes admittedly he was a bit of a rogue and maybe an orcshitter, but Blake wasn't about to allow anyone to think lesser of him, no matter his faults and no matter how much she may or may not like the person who was calling him into question. 

That was reserved for her and her alone. 

"Under all that bravado, he's actually really earnest and sweet and a really good friend.... Things that are hard to come by growing up the way we did."

"I see."

"Promise you'll give him a chance?"

"I never said he wasn't likable. I'm just not overly keen on orcshitters."

"You saw that then?"

"As clear as you're in front of me."

"Is that the only thing that's bothering you?"

"I'll give him a chance."

In depths of her hood, Blake smiled into the night. The barmaid, gently nudged her,

"As much as I'm enjoying our time together, are we going to do this?"

Peering over the lip of the fountain's edge, Blake made sure their path was clear. The thoroughfare was deserted and it was a case of now or never. 

She held up her ale bottle, 

"For a God's blessing?"

Yang held up her own,

"By Iwone, protect us from all that's foul!"

They both took a sip and scarped over to the street, shrouded in darkness.

Making the dais, they came upon a sight that would sober up even the drunkest of sailors. Barely standing, the bugbear snorted shaking it's head as they snuck closer. It's fur was matted with sweat from being under two days of intense sun and it's tongue hung flaccid with thirst. It's wrists and neck were almost rubbed raw and it gave a pathetic stamp of it's foot, the manacles making a hollow _thunk_ off the wood. 

Holding up her empty hand, Blake cautiously approached, keeping her voice steady and soft, 

"Shuuush... It's ok... We're here to help." It regarded her suspiciously with orange eyes, "-Yang.... Give him some this." 

She held out her bottle.

The barmaid stood transfixed, a look of horror mixed with in pity, 

"Yang!"

Her eyes flashed red, anger creeping into her voice, 

"This.... This is barbaric!"

They didn't have time to discuss what passed for justice these days. The Cerebani handed over her bottle, 

"Here.... Give him this."

Placing one bottle at the base of the stocks, the barmaid gently cupped the bugbear's chin, putting the bottle to it's lips trying to angle it. 

"We're gonna get you out of here.. Ok?"

The bugbear managed a nod as it slurped greedily. 

Quickly, Blake whipped out the fork and the dagger, looking back over her shoulder to make sure they weren't being watched. Pulling down the hood, her ears sprang up, flickering with their new found freedom. 

Tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, Blake concentrated, listening for a minuscule tell tale click. High quality tempered steel worked of softer iron. By ear alone she heard a tiny _chickt_ as the mechanism moved. Applying the right amount of pressure, so the prong would bend but not snap, she felt resistance and hot on it's heels the spring yielded.

The heavy duty padlock opened with a labored squeak. Between them, the women managed to lift the heavy yoke and, once free, the creature collapsed in exhaustion. It managed a raspy, 

"Vranqu."

Kneeling beside it, Yang asked, 

"Can you manage?"

Mournfully, it shook it's head, holding up it's swollen hands in answer. 

"Here, " She said quietly, "- You finish this. I'll see to these."

It took the bottle, slugging it's contents as Yang began to work at the pins holding the manacles closed. 

"I've got this... Go help the other one."

But Blake had already moved on.

If the bugbear was in bad shape, then the human was positively wretched by comparison. 

His face was caked with remnants of rotting produce and the base of the stocks was littered with flies having made nests in the necrotic flesh. The stench that rose from him was a mixture of stale sweat and evidence that he had soiled himself. His face was blistered from sun burn and his lips were cracked. Being so emaciated, he had at some point managed to wriggle his hands free but at the cost of losing a layer of skin. He gasped and wheezed, his legs threatening to give way. The only sign he was conscious was when Blake began to work on the lock, he flinched.

She wished a thousand deaths to those who called this a just punishment for the crime of being on hard times. Granted, the stocks were better than being given to shackles, or entombed in the Gaol, forgotten and never feeling light or wind on the skin, but being left like this at the mercy of the elements with no regard as to their health was nothing more than abject cruelty.

_At least let them have a modicum of dignity!_

Three shrill whistles in quick succession pierced the night.

A long shadow loomed. And Yang was beside her, 

"Blake!" She whispered urgently, "-We have to go!"

"Give me a second... I'm nearly there."

Biting her bottom lip, she grimaced at the blasted lock stiff with rust and age. 

Another trio of whistles. 

Looking back, at the plaza, Blake spied the small swinging lights of hand held lanterns at the western corner. 

"Go, if you want... But I'm not leaving him like this!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Once again on her knees, Yang began to hastily remove the pins from the manacles encasing the man's ankles. Twisting the fork, the thief teased the tip of her blade against it. A small click and it opened. A loud whine emanated from the hinge of the yoke. Swinging lights began to fast approach, 

"STOP! STOP! IN THE NAME OF THE WATCH! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!"

The bugbear caught the man under the arms as he began to fall back. 

"Go! I'll take him... Make sure he's well."

A splintering of wood came from the other side of the square. It was followed by a loud yell that echoed off buildings. 

"FUCK YOOOOOU! YOU GROUTLING EYED BASTARDS!"

The line of swinging lanterns veered off towards the sound. And still it persisted in a cacophony of barnyard grunts and high pitched SQUEEEES!

Blake flashed Yang a grin, 

"See... Told ya he's good in a bind!"

"I wouldn't call it genius but given the circumstances, it works. ... Now let's get the abyss out of here!"

Slinging the barely conscious man over it's wide shoulders, the bugbear snorted in thanks and lumbered away in the direction of Tanners Lane. Grabbing the barmaid by the hand, Blake followed the bugbear at high speed, only parting ways when she spied a lowish wall sandwiched between two buildings.

She didn't give a second thought, when she bounded halfway up the adjacent building, giving her much needed height to grip the lip and vault over it. Breathlessly, she was about to dart off, until she realized that her co-conspirator wasn't behind her. Doubling back, she made the base of the wall, trying to scramble back up when Yang appeared. Teetering on the top, she lost her grip and in a forest of flailing limbs, collided with the Cerebani.

They both landed in the dirt with a _squelch_.

Squashed underneath her, Blake could feel the soggy mess beginning to seep into the seat of her pants. Either side of the brunette's head, Yang propped herself up on her hands with a giggle,

"I think I might be more scuttered than I thought."

Aware of how the curves of barmaid's body was pressing into her's in all the most tantalizing of places, Blake managed a flustered,

"Yeah?"

In the gloom, Blake's keen eyesight caught how slight shock was quickly replaced with the biggest of shit eating grins as Yang teased, 

"We've got to stop meeting like this.... People will talk!" 

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the heady rush of adrenaline from breaking the law and nearly getting caught. Or maybe it was simply a case of a deep down burning desire to regain the upper hand as to why Blake suddenly found herself cavalierly replying, 

"What makes you think I'll be the one on my back?"

Taking advantage of the element of surprise, she knocked Yang's support out at the elbows and flipped her in the dirt.

Strong hands encased her back, and a firm thigh maneuvered in between her own. Yang leaned up, ghosting her nose against Blake's. Their breath intermingled, lips hovering a inches apart, and Blake tried to concentrate on anything else other than the delicious way Yang's taunt thigh was pressed against her. For the second time that evening, she caught a whiff of a strange scent. 

It was barely a whisper, but it had a thick quality to it, 

"Ohh, honey,-" The thigh bunched, hands gripped underneath her cloak tipped her off balance back into the dirt, pinned in a way she found she didn't want to fight. Again a feather light skim of a nose against her's. She tried to swallow but found her throat dry when lips barely brushed her own, "- it's cute you think that!"

Yang's foot moved to gain fulcrum, and a sharp pain went up Blake's spine, 

"Yang..." She gasped. 

"Yes?" 

"You're crushing my tail!"

In one swift move, Yang scrambled off her back onto her knees in the dirt, 

"By Iwone, are you ok?"

Rolling on to her knees, Blake winced, pulling her tail from within the confines of her cloak,

"Gimme a sec."

She gave it an experimental swish and tried not to grimace at the smart.

_That's going to hurt in the morning._

Getting to her feet, Yang offered out a hand, which the Cerebani gladly accepted, She pulled Blake upright, 

"- Let's go see if Sunshine made it back in one piece."

Taking the back alleyways to avoid bumping into anymore excitement, the pair made it through the door of The Bear and Sickle, hand in hand.

A small fire glowed in the spit pit and the smell of furpine mingled in with meat in the pot. Blake wasn't entirely surprised to find Sun already sat at the bar, a tankard of ale in hand and greedily gobbling a bowl of stew as he regaled a sleepy looking Nora with the night's shenanigans. She froze when she noticed the insignia of the City Watch on the cloak of a man who was face down on the table, asleep, with a half empty bottle of liquor beside him. She began to pinwheel backwards, ready to beat a hasty retreat, when Yang assured her, 

"Don't mind him.... That's my uncle, Qrow, " Sensing Blake's trepidation, she added, "- He's one of the good ones."

Sun slammed his hand down on the bar for emphasis, 

"BOOOM!.... He sank like a Troll in a river!"

Qrow startled awake, hand grabbing the pommel of his short sword. Blearily, he looked around before sinking into the crook of his arm on the table with a grunt that turned into light snores.

"Ask for what ever you fancy, I'll be right behind you."

Reluctantly, Blake let go of her hand and Yang began to busy herself sliding home heavy duty bolts and two sturdy planks to bolster them. At the sound, Nora looked up, exclaiming, 

"Thanks be to the Storm Lord! ....You're home!"

Sun turned on his high stool, 

"Blake!... Yang!... You made it!"

Smiling, he hopped off the seat, bounding over and wrapping her in a bone crushing hug. Pulling away, he looked at his hands, 

"Urrrgh! What the abyss happened? ...You're covered in shit!- " He looked around for somewhere to wipe it, deciding that the only place clean on Blake's cloak was the best spot, "- You manage to save them?"

Taking a stool, Blake gave him a look. 

He grinned, 

"Of course you did!... Didn't doubt you for a second." He scooped a spoonful of broth, "- Here have a taste... Grub here is something divine!"

Nora yelled, 

"Yeah and you better appreciate it!"

With a grin, Blake wrapped her lips round the spoon, taken aback when Sun mischievously let go of the handle leaving it hanging in her mouth. He darted behind the bar as if it was his second home, and he the host grabbing a tankard and spinning it in his hands, 

"Drink?"

Blake cast a glance in the staff of tavern's direction, 

"Sun! Don't be cheeky!"

He pointed a finger at her, 

"Hey!.... A drink is the least we deserve after saving the day like adventurers!"

"Oi... You!" Nora shouted. 

Pulling up a seat beside the Cerebani, Yang waved it off, 

"He's right... We do!..... Gonna join us?"

Nora shrugged, 

"Sure.... Why the fuck not!"

Sun spun round, knocking an empty tankard onto to the floor where it rattled, causing a loud snort from the sleeping Watchman. With a sigh, Nora went behind the bar, shooing the butcher boy out and began to fill tankards, slipping each one person, 

"Rooms 8 and 9 are free for these two, if they are staying... The warrior settled up."

"The Yeshjani with the busted paldron?"

Nora popped a drink in front of Yang and then Sun, 

"Yeah... Apparently him and Miss Fawnsy Boots found who they were looking for."

Something niggled like a tremor eel at the back of Blake's mind. It retreated into the loam when a tender hand hovered close to the clasp of her cloak, 

"We should put this near the fire to dry."

Sun snorted, 

"In a bucket is more like... She stinks worse than Fidgug on a bad day!"

Nora dumped a drink in front of her, 

"Don't know who this Fidgug is, but if it means you reek. He's not wrong!"

Bowing her head, Blake gripped the lapels of her cloak so tight her knuckles turned white and her ears flattened back. Yang's own remained awkwardly in mid air, 

" You don't have to take it off if you don't feel safe.... But if you want to... I can give you something else that's dry."

Collecting her own tankard, Nora rounded the bar, 

"If you want more stew, pretty boy, bring your bowl!"

Grabbing the bowl and his ale, he leaned into Blake as he passed, 

"She called me Pretty Boy..... and there's stew! Sorry... the stomach and ego are mightier than the heart!" 

He scurried off after the pastel coloured cook. 

Yang snickerd, 

"All right... He's growing on me."  
.  
Blake's ears pricked forward. And Yang added, 

"What would you like to do?"

Hesitantly, Blake unclipped the clasp, asking meekly. 

"Please, may I borrow something?"

The look she received didn't have the pity that she expected, but was soft and warm, 

"Join the others and I'll bring a change of clothes."

As Yang went to walk away, Blake reached out, clasping her hand. Leaning up from her seat, she pressed a chaste kiss to Yang's cheek, sincerely murmuring, 

"Thank you."

Colour spread over the bridge of the barmaid's nose and apples of her cheeks, and she dropped Blake's hand like it was scalding. Her voice was thick, 

"It's ok.... I... I'm.. I'll be back."

She turned on her heel and disappeared through into the kitchen. Blake watched her go, brow knitted in confusion.

Collecting her drink, she meandered over to the others by the spit pit. Someone had removed the meat pot off the hook nestling it in a nook whereby it could garner some heat yet not dry out, no doubt Nora's doing, and built the fire up nicely with charring wood so it wouldn't go out. With a battered deck of all too familiar cards, Sun was attempting to wow the cook with his skills.

"We play a game of Three Dragon Ante... Best out of three.. If I win I get a kiss!"

Taking a seat, Blake rubbed her forehead. 

"Sun.... Don't be an elf's heel!"

He held up his hands, trying to look as innocent as possible, as if he hadn't tried this swindle a number of times, imploring, 

"I would never!"

Neither of them expected Nora to step up to the challenge, with a shrug, 

"Ok... What do I get if I win?"

Sun looked nonplussed, 

"A kiss?"

"No.. No . No, pretty boy... If _you_ win. You get a kiss from yours truly... If _I_ win then,-" She drummed her fingers on the table. Her face lit up with barely bridled delight, "- If I win.... You split the logs out the back!"

"You're on!.... You know what? I'll widen the odds in your favour to give you a fighting chance... Best of five!"

The first round Nora easily won but Blake heavily suspected that Sun was toying with her unable to help himself from running the gambit he was famed for on the shady corners of Dame's Point. 

The second, Sun strung her along, slapping his thigh at each combat and making it seem like his eventual win was hard fought for. Halfway through the third, Nora dealt back his tricks, claiming victory in a way that piqued the Cerebani's interest. 

During the fourth hand, Blake picked up on Sun's barely discernible tells. She watched how he flipped cards, half inched them on the land, a sure fire sign he was attempting to stack the deck in his favour.

There was a reason why there was a chain-mail ban on him entering most of the gambling establishments and the threat of broken hands if he ever so much glanced a card in Falseham. Catching a peek at Nora's hand, and hiding her face in her tankard, she watched as all the red head needed to do was place the copper dragon face up to win. But she chose to place a Thunder Eel instead. 

If before the cook had garnered her curiosity, now she had the thief's full attention.

Grinning, Sun went to gather the scattered cards into a pile only for Nora to stop him, 

"Last game... Scullery maid shuffles!"

Sun blustered, 

"Nah... I'm the Lair Master.. I shuffle!"

"That ain't the way of it in The Bear and Sickle... Stakes this high, the scullery maid shuffles... Tavern's rules!"

"Stakes?"

"Yeah... One kiss from me is worth a King's ransom!"

Sun shrugged playfully, pushing the hodge podge pile of battered cards towards Blake, 

"Well in that case, I'm definitely playing for keeps."

Scooping the cards into her hands, Blake began to shuffle them. The nodges and divets, the creases and ever so slightly bent corners under her fingertips as familiar to her as the rooftops of the city and hidden pathways of the Understreet.

She momentarily lost her concentration, the rectangular icons of both The Lady and the Three Shears threatening to spill to the floor when the tendrils of yellow began to filter into her vision. She watched as Yang guided her uncle to a dark corner, tugging off his boots and lovingly tucked a blanket round him.

The sharp snap of fingers, 

"Focus!"

Fumbling, she hurriedly encased them in her palms, keeping their likeness hidden from view.

Arms laden with a bundle of clothes, Yang came upon them, 

"You're playing cards?"

"Yup. If he wins, he gets a kiss... If he loses, he splits the logs out the back!"

From within the pile of in her arms, the barmaid pulled out a short tunic, tossing it to Sun, 

"Here... It's one of my father's.. It should fit."

With no preamble, the butcher boy tugged his torn shirt over his head showing off his chiseled physique . Leaning towards Blake, Nora leered, 

"Maybe I ought to throw the next game!"

Sun covered his nipples with his hands, 

"Excuuuse me!.... I am _not_ an object!"

Sorting through the assortment, Yang threatened,

"Don't even think about it, Nora!.... Throw the game and you're on bedpan duty until Suttonsday!-" Finally finding what she was looking for, the blonde held out a pair of light grey baggy trousers and dark blue cowl, tentatively addressing Blake, "- This is all I could find.... I hope it's all right."

The cards forgotten, Blake's fingers wrapped around the garments, 

"Thankyou...Honestly."

"You can nip behind the bar.... No one will see you."

Blake whispered, 

"You trust me?"

Yang looked up, 

"You work here now... Steal from us.. You steal from yourself in the long run."

Feeling three pairs of eyes boring in to her as she processed the gravity of the words, a tinkle of ear jewelry it's accompaniment, she dare not look up.

_Miss Gladowhag had always said, "For everything given, something of equal importance must be exchanged"._

Blake found she had nothing to offer.

She was almost grateful when Nora nudged Sun's ankle, 

" Toss some wood on the spit, and get ready for a burning."

"The only thing that's gonna get burned is you when you finally admit defeat and I win that kiss!"

"Hope you're good with an axe, pretty boy!"

Against the back drop of bickering and laughter, Blake made swift work of changing, Bundling up her sodden trousers in her cloak, she came back round just as Nora jumped to her feet, whooping in a whisper shout, whilst Sun buried his face in his hands in defeat.

Nora sprinkled some cards over him, the rest she rubbed on her shoulders letting them fall to the floor. Trying to pick them up, he demanded, 

"Best of three.... Double or nothing!"

"Lets go! But first I'm getting drinks."

Making a nest of blankets on the floor, Yang drowsily mumbled, 

"You can count me out."

"What about you, Blake?"

Grabbing a blanket from the pile, Blake nestled under it, 

"You're on your own, pretty boy!"

Listening to the crackling of the fire and the hushed insults of the card players, she began to drift off.

A light hesitant hand rested on her rib cage. Interlocking their fingers, Blake wriggled backwards until she was flush against a solid heat, her tail lazily wrapping round Yang's calf of it's own accord. 

And for once she didn't think of it as a traitor. 

Instead, she drifted off to the steady sound of a comforting rumbling.


End file.
